


A Rose By Any Other Name

by MaraLynnCade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape, Blow Job, Body Modification, Bottom Dean, Breeding Kink, Charlie Bradbury - Freeform, Discussion of Abortion, Donna Hanscum - Freeform, Gordon Walker - Freeform, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam, Incest, John Winchester - Freeform, Knotting, M/M, Medical Exam, Mentioned consensual underage sex, Midwives, Mpreg, Physical Abuse, Possible Mpreg, Protective Bobby Singer, Rowena McCloud, Unintentional Voyeurism, castiel - Freeform, crowley - Freeform, ruby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 109,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraLynnCade/pseuds/MaraLynnCade
Summary: Based the story, Rose Among Thorns , by HazelDomain.  Read that piece first or this will lack plot and background.Dean and Sam deal with the aftermath of Dean's omegatization.HazelDomain indicated at the end of Rose Among thorns that she was willing to have others take up the story I hope she likes where I am going...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HazelDomain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/gifts).



A Rose by Any Other Name by MaraLynn Cade Notes: Based the story, Rose Among Thorns , by HazelDomain. Read that piece first or this will lack plot and background.

 

It would be funny if the situation wasn’t so serious. Eyes looking everywhere but at each other, Sam and Dean left the omega clinic in awkward silence. Side by side, unconsciously in step with each other, they walked to the waiting Impala. Sam heard Dean’s small sigh of relief, of pleasure that here was one thing in his life that had not changed. His Baby was still there for him.

 

Making a quick decision, Sam stopped and fished the keys from his jacket pocket. Dean progressed a few steps further before turning back to his brother. He kept his eyes cast down and off center, somewhere to the left of where Sam was standing.

 

“Here.” Sam announced, jangling the car keys. When he had Dean’s attention, he threw a high lob.

 

Dean deftly caught the brass bits and bounced the weight in his hand. With a small smile, the first in what felt like forever, Dean circled the car to the driver’s seat. The leather seat supported his aching back, molded to his tender ass. It felt right. It felt good- to be safe and in control.

 

Sam settled into the passenger seat, folding his long limbs comfortably, familiar with the role of riding shot gun. He chanced a quick glance at his brother. Dean’s tension seemed to have eased some but Sam was far from being fooled. He knew there were issues to be resolved, adjustments to be made, decisions… Most of all they needed to talk. Everything had happened so fast, so out of their control.

 

“Back to the motel?” Dean finally asked stiffly. He was tired and hungry, in need of rest and food but he was in no hurry to face the alphas he’d spread his legs for in the mindlessness of his first heat. Having to face Sammy was hard enough.

 

“No. I checked us out.” Sam answered quietly. “Hope you don’t mind. But I’d had my fill of that place. I thought we could head north, find a diner. Fill up. Get a few miles under our wheels before we crash for the night.”

 

Dean swallowed hard at the thought of the upcoming night. He forced the flicker of panic down. This was Sammy. His baby brother. If he couldn’t trust Sam, he couldn’t trust anyone. “Sounds good.”

 

Dean turned the key and the engine purred to life. Dean put the car in gear and maneuvered the Impala onto the road, toward the new normal.

 

“What can I get you, sweetie?” the waitress asked. She was more than old enough to be their mother- hell, maybe even their grandmother- with dyed red hair with the roots showing white, overtweezed, drawn on eyebrows arched in inquiry. She may have been pretty once but the years and too much make-up pancaked on made her look rather pathetic.

 

“Double bacon cheeseburger with everything, heavy on the onions. Fries. Coffee, black. And do you have cherry pie?”

 

“Sure do, best in the county!” she answered with a smile that cracked her scarlet painted lips and revealed yellowed snaggledly teeth.

 

“I’ll have a piece after, with two scoops of ice cream.” Dean shot Sam a look. Daring him to lecture on his order’s fat or chlorestrol content.

 

“Cobb salad, oil and vinegar. And a large glass of milk, please.” Sam ordered quietly, not rising to Dean’s challenge. Dean had lost weight during his ordeal. Silently Sam made a note to himself that Dean should be taking vitamin supplements now, especially if…

 

Sam swallowed hard and forced out the words that had been circling inside his head for almost two weeks. “I’m sorry, De. This should never have happened. It was never supposed to be you. I’m sorry. I screwed up. I failed you. Again."

 

Dean refused to meet his eyes, concentrating on methodically dismembering his napkin. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sammy. Not now. Not ever."

 

“Dean. We have to talk.”

 

“Really, Sammy, you want to start this here and now?”

 

“I figure that here and now ups my chances that you won’t beat me to a pulp or put a bullet between my eyes because I’m the alpha that popped your cherry.” Relying on shock value, Sam pushed on, “There are decisions that have to be made. Plans-“

 

“The only plan I have is to get on heat suppressants the first chance I get.”

 

 

Sam choked back a curse word. “That may work for the short term but you can’t use that crap indefinitely. It’ll ruin your liver, your kidneys.”

 

“You the expert now, Sammy? You know everything?” Dean hissed back, feeling cornered.

 

‘I’ve researched it!” Sam shot back with his own heat, careful to keep his voice low. “I know more than you and Dad combined! I knew what they’d do to you when Dad took you to that damn clinic. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bring you out of your heat alone. And I know that no doctor is going to prescribe heat suppressants if there’s a possibility that you’re pregnant. I know…” Sam broke off seeing the color drain from his brother’s face.

 

“I’m not- I can’t be-“ Dean stuttered, “It was my first heat.”

 

The waitress sashayed over to deliver their order. “You okay, sweetie?” She eyed Dean closely.

 

“He’s fine.” Sam answered for him. “Just needs some food.”

 

“Well, you just let me know when you’re ready for that pie. I’ve saved you a big piece.”

 

“Thanks.” Dean managed with a tight smile. Satisfied she retreated, ample hips swaying the way, back behind the counter.

 

“Dean.” Sam continued their discussion, sotto voce. “You don’t believe that fairy tale about first times, do you? The purpose of a heat is to impregnate the omega. You’ve been fucked by more than a dozen alphas. The odds are better than 80% that you caught.”

 

“I can’t, Sammy. I can’t be-“ Dean couldn’t even say the word.

 

“You may be. Chances are that you are.” Sam continued softly, calmly. “Ignoring the facts, won’t change the possibilities.”

 

Dean looked sick. He slouched in the booth. The juicy cheeseburger sat untouched.

 

“I’ll get rid of it. I’m not carrying any hairy alpha’s pup!”

 

“Even if I’m the hairy alpha? The baby could be mine. Ours. And even if it isn’t mine, it’s yours. Dean, I’ve been waiting to have your baby ever since you told me about the birds and the bees, the alphas and omegas.” Sam sighed, fearing his argument had done little to convince Dean. “And no reputable doctor will abort an omega. It’s a capital offense. And don’t even think of going to some back street quack. I’m not letting you put yourself at risk.”

 

“Sam. What am I going to do? I can’t live like this!”

 

“Dean, we’ll figure it out. We’ll take it step by step. We’ll work it out together. Like we always do.”

 

“I don’t even know where to begin.” Dean admitted, the fight gone out of him.

 

“Start by eating your burger. You need food. Then we’ll find a motel for the night. We get some sleep. Then tomorrow, if you want, we can head to Bobby’s.” Sam offered, knowing that was their safe haven. “We can regroup there. Get our bearings. Make plans.”

 

Dean made no objections. Sam pushed the plate of food closer and insisted. “Now you need to eat.”

 

“I can’t” Dean mumbled, heaped with misery. “Just the smell of it turns my stomach. I must be-“

 

“It’s too soon for morning sickness, Dean. It’s just nerves or exhaustion.”

 

“Says the expert.” Dean snorted derisively.

 

“Had to be.” Sam answered reasonably. “I grew up figuring I’d be yours and Dad’s omega. I knew that the two of you would know absolutely nothing about omega care. So I studied up. I considered it self defense.” Sam grimaced slightly. “Or so I thought. I really am sorry, Dean.”

 

“Don’t start that again.”

 

“Com’on.” Sam coaxed. “You need to fuel your engine. Try to get at least one burger down. You need the protein. And how about a milkshake instead of the coffee. It will sit easier in your stomach than diner joe.”

 

“Can I have chocolate?” Dean asked, peeking up through those ridiculous lashes, “I’ve been jonesing for chocolate all day.

 

“Sure.” Sam chuckled, a real laugh as he signaled the waitress. “But don’t get used to being indulged. I’m not spoiling you.”

 

“Bite me, Sammy.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and sam continue to explore life after Dean's omegatization.

A Rose by Any Other Name  
MaraLynnCade

Chapter Two

Bellies filled, a tacit truce established, the Winchester boys loaded themselves back into the Impala. There were at least two more hours of daylight to see them down the road. Dean plugged an 8 track into player, picking a random cassette anything to disguise the silence that ruled inside the car. Anything to distract the ditherings that circled inside his mind. They traveled on for more than an hour before Dean heaved a sigh and broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Sam answered easily. "Shoot." He'd been anticipating this. No one brooded over a subject like his big brother. Bit by bit, Sam hoped, Dean would work his way through to their new lives.

"The doc." Dean swallowed hard before he clarified, "At that clinic." Just the thought of that place made his guts twist into knots.

"Doctor Roberts." Sam supplied the name. "Yeah, what about him?"

"He creeped me out. Imagine spending your days, every day, slicing and dicing other guys' family jewels." Dean shuddered, remembering the helplessness he had felt strapped to that god awful table. "Bastard enjoyed his work too damn much."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. He wasn't sure where this was going, what response exactly Dean hoped to get from him. Keeping his voice carefully neutral, Sam asked, "Do you want to go back and beat the shit out of him?"

"I'd be more than happy to if I figured it would do any good." Dean slouched lower in the driver's seat. Twilight was catching up on them. "Can't go back. Can't make it unhappen. What's done, is done. Right?"

Sam winced, hearing the bitterness in Dean's tone. He regretted the direction this was heading. But he realized there would be more times Dean would need to talk about what had been done to him before it could be reconciled. Trying to walk that fine line between satisfying his brother's curiosity and totally pissing him off, Sam prompted, "You had a question?"

Dean gave a sharp, quick nod but kept his eyes glued to the road. "During the exam-" His mouth was dry. His stomach was churning but he had to know. Had to ask. Sammy would know. Sammy always knew all the answers. "Roberts said-" Dean swallowed convulsively, trying to lubricate the words stuck in his throat, in his mind. "He said He had to be sure I had the proper equipment. Then he fingered something inside me. You know, something up my ass. And I saw stars."

"The guy was an asshole." Sam offered, angered that his brother had been treated so callously. "A creep. If you are asking me, I'd say he got his jollies too much on the job."

"No argument there." Dean was quick to agree. Sam however could see by the set of Dean's jaw that his question had not been resolved.

"My guess would be he fingered your prostate. We, meaning males, all have one. And from what I understand direct stimulation can be intensely stimulating."

"He called it my omega gland. He said I could have gone either way. Am I some kind of hermaphodite freak?"

"No!" Sam stifled a sigh. God damn doctor, god damn clinic. Didn't they provide any opportunity for the patient to ask questions, any counseling before they whacked a man's balls off. Just slice and stitch and out the door? The incompetent bastards! Sam stifled a sigh. Where to begin... How to explain...

"Basic biology, man. One pair of chromosomes determine if you are male or female. One single mutation on the Y chromosome determines if you are Alpha or omega. That mutation can vary in the degree it is expressed by a variety of factors- nature, nutrition, hormonal balance, to name a few.

"Estimates are that 70% of the male population carry the Alpha/ omega mutation. The remaining 30 % are Betaes, as are all females by definition, although some call a fertile female an omega."

Eyes forward, Dean asked. "Where'd this mutation come from? There's nothing in history about alphas and omegas and men getting pregnant."

"You ask the hard questions." Sam returned philosophically. "There's lots of theories. Some more out there than others. Alien interference, is pretty much discredited.

"Some scientists think the mutation occurred spontaneously. Evolution of the species in response to climate change, rising levels of pollution, radioactivity, ecetera, ecetera. You know the old Darwin thing- adapt or face extinction."

"And you think?" Dean cued, wanting to hear more.

"There's a theory that the Alpha/omega dichotomy was manufactured. Engineered. During the latter part of the last century, after all the wars, after all the mass genocides, world population tapered off. And female fertility rates nosedived. Big business, governments- take your pick of the powers that be, they took notice. Grew concerned. Started to plan for the what ifs, the what might become."

"You're telling me that some fat ass bureaucrat, sitting in an office somewhere decides that there aren't enough babies being born so they fuck with the whole human gene thing and make male mommies?"

"It's a theory. Conspiracy theorists believe that the AIDS epidemic was an early failed experiment." Sam shrugged, tried to play it casual but Dean could hear the anger in his brother's quiet words. "The homosexual population was expendable, after all they weren't significant in producing the next generation. But the mutation didn't work like they intended. It went too far. Destroyed the immune system and devastated a large segment of our population. Some think the Ebola virus is another failed attempt. I doubt it any of this could ever be proved or disproved.

"We may never know if the Alpha/omega virus was engineered or spontaneous but I can tell you one thing- the governments were awfully quick to react, quick to enact the Omega Laws.  
Laws that are supposed to protect a minority population and their rights. But some think all these laws do is control the omegas and limit their options."

"You've given this a lot of thought." Dean commented with a sideways glance. "Studied on it and all."

Sam shrugged. "The subject interested me. Self defense or so I thought. Omega rights will be the next battlefield for the civil rights movement."

"Still dreaming of being a suit jockey lawyer?"

"There are ways to help people that go beyond hunting monsters, Dean."

Dean flashed his brother a genuine smile. "Yah there are, Sammy!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Slow down, Dean."

"What? Why?" Dean's response was automatic- foot off the gas, steady pressure on the brake to decelerate. "Did you see something?"

"Yeah, a sign- something, something motor lodge, 500 feet ahead." Sam squinted into the darkness. "There! On the left." A single spotlight illuminated the painted wooden sign. 

"Do you think it's open? It's kinda out here in the middle of nowhere." The sign wasn't the glare of neon to which Dean was accustomed. He didn't think he liked the looks of this place. 

Sam persisted. "The sign says 'Vacancy.' There's a light on at what looks like the office. I'm beat. You must be too. How about we give this place a try?

"I don't know, Sammy. It looks like the Daniel Boone version of the Bates Motel. Kinda spooky, if you ask me." Dean muttered.

"Turn in. If you and I can't handle spooky, who can? 

 

The cabins had seen better days, no doubt about it. The Cedar Lake Lodge was a relic of the 1950's when the burgeoning interstate highway system had awakened Americans to the call of the road and the wonders of nature. To Sam, at least, it looked like a promising place for a quiet night's sleep. The place was rustic, rural, virtually deserted. Ten cabins, situated on the edge of a black lake with the office/ owner's residence in the middle. 

Leaving Dean to grumble in the Impala, Sam stepped out and up to the office door. He rang the doorbell as the small hand lettered sign instructed. He waited, rocking back on his heels til the answering buzz indicated that the door was unlocked. With a glance back at Dean, a quick shrug and half smile, Sam pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Dean kept his focus on the glow coming through the Venetian blinds. He saw Sam's bulk step up to what must have been the reception desk. Stifling a yawn, Dean rolled down the driver's window. The fresh air felt good. Watching as Sam bent to sign them in, the yawn forced its way out anyway. Now that he wasn't concentrating on the road, he could admit he was tired. In fact, he was exhausted and in desperate need of sleep. Dean was also sure he didn't need anything more than sleep. Hopefully Sam would be in agreement with that. Feeling the sick uncertainty of his new life mounting, Dean watched as the office door opened again. With a good natured "Thanks! Goodnight." Called back to their host inside, Sam emerged.

"Last one, left side." Sam reported as he stood next to the driver's side of Baby. He offered Dean the key. "We're their first guests. Just opened yesterday. How's that for luck?"

"If you say so." Dean kept his eyes locked ahead, not sure he could hide his unease, his growing nervousness from his brother.

"The owner promises it's clean but concedes it's short on the amenities. Dean, I'm sorry. They don't take credit cards and I only had enough cash for one cabin. One basic cabin with one double bed. If sharing that will be a problem for you, I can sleep in the car." Sam offered considerately. It wouldn't be the first or likely the last time he'd slept in the back seat.

"I ain't no virgin, Sammy!" Dean snapped, heavy on the sarcasm with a side of false bravado. "Got no cherry to protect, remember?"

Sam could see the tension in the broad hands white knuckling the steering wheel, in the muscle that jumped in the down covered cheek. "De," he sighed, feeling incredibly weary, "Sharing a bed doesn't equal a knotting. If we're going to make this work, you have to stop being an asshole or expecting me to be one."

Dean didn't offer a snappy comeback. Staring out the windshield, he answered with a stiff nod.

Sam wasn't sure that they were making any headway adapting to the new normal. Battling back another sigh of frustration, he pushed the key toward Dean. "Take it."

"Aren't you getting in?"

"No. I'll walk. Stretch my legs. Lights switches to the right of the door. One for the outside light, one for the bedside lamp. Go get settled. I'll be along after I do a recon. Thirty minutes or so."

 

Sam gave him a generous hour of precious privacy. When he finally got to their home for the night, he found Dean still damp from his shower, clad in ratty sweatpants and an even rattier tee shirt. And busy sharpening his blades. That raised Sam's brow. Warning or threat? Sam paused in the open doorway trying to assess his brother's mercurial mood.

Green eyes flashed to meet his. "You gonna stand there all night? What took you so long? I was beginning to think a werewolf or windingo got you."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." Sam stepped into the cabin. "It's a beautiful night. The sky's full of stars. You can see the Milky Way."

"Really, Sammy. Stargazing? Lock the door. I've already warded the windows."

Sam hurried to obey. He made quick work of laying a solid barrier of salt across the threshold.  
Dean had switched to honing his boot shive as Sam stood, watching, "You planning on using those tonight?.

"Boy Scout motto: Be prepared!"

"We were never Boy Scouts."

"Well then," Dean shrugged "John Winchester's motto: you can never be too prepared!"

Sam snorted a response, caught between laughter and disgust at the mention of their absent father. Dean, he knew, idolized the man. Dean was the good son, the obedient soldier who never argued, never questioned and was always quick to obey. And Sam was... not. Righteous anger flared in Sam. And just where had Dean's subservience to their great hunter father gotten him? It wasn't Sam who had taken Dean to that damn omega clinic to be castrated. This cataclysm wasn't his fault. But as always, John had abandoned his sons, left them alone to deal with the aftermath while he plunged onward seeking more thrills, more glory.

"You okay, man?" Dean's nervous question shook Sam back to the here and now.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." Sam moved purposely to his duffle bag which Dean had considerately placed on the dresser. "Just thinking."

"Well cut it out. You're creeping me out." Dean complained.

Sam pulled his shave kit, a pair of briefs and sweats ever bit as worn as Dean's from his duffle. "I'm for a shower and then some serious z's"

Dean answered with a noncommittal grunt as Sam disappeared into the bathroom.

 

It was awkward. It was damn awkward. And it was ridiculous. They'd shared a bed in the past. When they were kids they'd regularly slept in the same bed- usually with Sam cradled protectively in his big brother's arms. He wanted so badly to feel that close to Dean again. Sam fought to contain another sigh of frustration.

They lay back to back in the narrow bed, both of them wearing more clothing than they were accustomed to sleep in. They were both pretending to be asleep. Both afraid to move for fear of disturbing the other. Sam had to wonder, would there always be this tension between them now. The possibility was appalling depressing. 

Sam thought longingly of the comfort he had always found from Dean's touch. All his life, Dean had been there for him- to comfort, to protect, to love him. He wanted desperately to do the same for his omega brother now that their roles had so unexpectedly been reversed. He loved Dean in every sense of the word. He had been ready, hell he had been eager to be omega to Dean's Alpha. Sam wanted to be loved by Dean. He a wanted to make love with Dean. Did who penetrated whom really make that much difference? Not to him. He wanted Dean. He wanted...

Sleep claimed the exhausted Alpha at last. Dean felt the tension gradually leave the muscled bulk laying at his back. He kept his own breathing deep and even. He denied his body's urge to fidget. He fought the urge to roll over, to throw himself into Sam's big, strong arms. He loved Sam with all his heart but how could he live like this. He had never expected to live like this.

He was supposed to be the Alpha. The provider. The protector. Damnit, he was supposed to be the fucker, not the fuckee! A sob nearly escaped his lips. A tear slid beneath his closed eyelids. Shit. Quit your bitching, his mind sneered to himself. Quit your bellyaching. What is, is! Live with it!

It's not Sammy's fault. None of this is Sam's fault. And he is trying so hard to help you. Time to suck it up, Deano! Make the best of a bad situation. All those shitty platitudes that everyone spouted when you were well and truly screwed by life...or fate...or destiny....or whatever...

Blessed sleep finally claimed Dean. Exhausted by life's challenges he slept deeply, dreaming of bouncing beach balls and bubbles that burst to become babies and boobies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam sleep together.

Sam woke in the dark before dawn to quiet breaths and a warm embrace. Crickets sang their symphony through the open window. The incoming breeze was fresh, a tad on the cool side, which had likely caused their two bodies to seek each others' warmth. Sam lay still, savoring the warmth, the feeling of his brother's body entwined with his own. It would be better, he thought still half asleep, if they were naked. Hell, it would be wonderful if they were pressed flesh to flesh, Alpha to omega. Sam drew in a deep breath appreciating the light crisp scent that was Dean. Within the confines of his sweat pants that he'd worn for modesty's sake, for Dean's reassurance, Sam felt his cock hardening.

Sam bit his lower lip, hoping pain would provide distraction. That had been a mistake. Now wasn't the time for sex. It was too soon. Dean wasn't ready for more. He'd been through enough, more than enough. Despite his self reproach, Sam's erection continued to grow The scent, the feel of Dean within his arms was irresistible. Shit! Shit! Shit! 

No! Sam forced discipline upon his body. Carefully Sam eased his hips back and away. Dean mumbled in his sleep and rolled over, unconsciously presenting his ass for his Alpha. An even stronger wave of omega arousal assaulted Sam. He was rock hard and wanting. Dean humped backward, grinding his ass against Sam's erection. Quickly the double layer of sweats became saturated with the slick lubricating Dean's omega channel. Instinct, need demanded that Sam claim the available omega. Loyalty, brotherhood, love required that he deny himself that pleasure. 

"Dean!" Sam shook his shoulder. "Dean, wake up. Now, Dean!"

Sam had always appreciated Dean's battle readiness. Now he found himself prone on the cabin floor, pinned beneath Dean's slighter strength. One forearm was against his windpipe, forcing his head up and back into the floor. A knee was poised at his groin.

"Stop!" Sam croaked. "De, don't."

"What the fuck!" Dean sprang back in one fluid move. Released, Sam drew a deep breath. Then another, before he eased up onto his elbows. No fast moves, he cautioned himself silently, reading the dazed expression on Dean's ashen face.

"Relax. Take a deep breath." Sam ordered them both. "We were sleeping. Maybe dreaming..."

"Dreaming." Dean repeated, clearly confused. "I- you-" Panicked Dean scrabbled backward until the wall blocked his retreat.

"Nothing happened." Sam stated firmly. "I knew you didn't want it. I know you don't want me. I stopped it. I woke you up Dean. I stopped it. I won't use you. If someday, we get together, it will be because we both want to make love. I won't force you. I won't rape you. I love you, Dean!"

Dean sat huddled on the floor, shivering from the aftershock and the chilly air. He made no effort to rise. Slowly, telegraphing his moves, Sam got to his feet. He stripped the blanket from their bed and draped it around his brother. Snagging the comforter for himself, he wrapped it around his shoulders. Sam slid down the wall to sit beside Dean. There would be no returning to the comfort of that shared bed tonight.

Tilting his head back against the wall, Sam watched as the sky brightened. Eventually shafts of light spread into their modest cabin. Outside, birds were singing, he realized. Their cheerful tunes seemed totally out of sync with the heavy silence between the brothers.

Dean sat huddled in misery. His eyes were screwed tightly shut. His hands clutched the blanket to his chest. His face, white beneath the span of freckles, was a tragic mask. A less devoted observer might have thought that he slipped back to sleep there on the floor but Sam knew otherwise. Therefore it didn't surprise him when Dean finally broke the silence.

"You shouldn't have stopped it. You should have let it happen."

"Why, Dean?"

"Aren't you sick of all this drama? I know I am. And it's all so fucking stupid. I'm an omega. You're an Alpha. Facts are facts. Basic biology, like you said. Alphas fuck omegas. What are we making such a big hairy deal about this."

Sam couldn't look at Dean, didn't want to see the defeat in his eyes. "Is that what you want? To be fucked?"

Dean managed a shrug. "Apparently. At least that's what my body wants. I'm just a hole now- wet and loose for an Alpha's knot."

Sam snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right. That's why you took me down in three seconds flat. Nearly crushed my windpipe. Not to mention my balls.

"Sorry about that." Dean offered sheepishly.

"Don't be. It's good to know you can still defend yourself." Sam shifted to face his brother. Reaching out he laid one hand on the hunched shoulder. "I've said it before. I'll say it again. And I'll keep saying it until you believe me." Sam waited until the blond cropped head lifted, until their eyes locked. "I won't use you. I won't fuck you. I'll wait until you are ready. And I'll hope that when you are, you'll choose me. And even if you don't, I want you to know that it is and will always be your choice. You are not just an omega hole slick for a knot. You are Dean Winchester and despite hormones, pheromones or whatever, you decide your future. It is your choice." 

Sam"s hand slid up to cup the pale cheek. "I love you, Dean. I love you."

"Thank you." Dean replied, his voice so choked by emotion that it was barely audible.

"You don't have to thank me. That's just the way it is." He brought his hand down to squeeze Dean's shoulder, a sign of comfort and affection. "Listen." Sam began, knowing they both needed space, time. "I'm going to change. Then go for a run. Ellen, our landlady, mentioned last night that there is a path around the lake. Should take me about an hour to jog. You can catch some more sleep or shower while I'm gone. When I get back, we can pack up and head out. We'll find some breakfast then hit the road. Sound good?"

It's a plan." Dean agreed with a weary smile.

 

The door clicked shut as Sam left for his early morning run. Dean stayed where he was, hunkered down on the floor, trying to process what had just happened. In this world that had been turned upside down, Sam had promised that it would be his choice, if and when. To this body that had been turned inside out, Sam had vowed his love. It all left Dean rather dumbstruck.

Sam had said he loved him. Not in a brotherly way. Not in a 'I'll do my duty as an Alpha in the family' way. Sammy LOVED him! Imagine that!

Slowly Dean got his feet under himself and rose. He grimaced with distaste as his movements revealed that his clothing was firmly pasted in his butt crack by the drying slick. Not a comfortable sensation. Retreating to the bathroom, Dean turned on the shower to warm then peeled off the tee and sweats that he'd slept in. Naked he stepped in the stall, under the spray. The water sluicing down felt good. Liberal applications of shampoo and body wash cleared away his fatigue as well as the remains of his dawn arousal.

Feeling better, Dean filled his hands with more soap. Disciplining himself, Dean moved down to palm his groin. Man, would he ever get used to the absence of his balls?  
The incision was well healed. Barely detectable. It was no more sensitive than the surrounding area beneath his exploring fingertips. 

Suddenly Dean realized what else was missing. What the fuck had happened to his short and curlys? Had the nurse shaved him after she'd numbed his crotch? He didn't remember that as part of the surgery prep. But he had to concede that at the time he'd been too panicked to take in many details. 

Would his pubic bush grow back? Dean wondered. He tried to recall the omegas he'd boinked during his Alpha days. Shit that seemed like years ago. There hadn't been that many, he admitted to himself. Not nearly the number that he had boasted of to Sammy. Those oms, as he remembered, had been silky smooth, mostly hairless. And what had been there had been more peach fuzz than the wiry pubic curls to which he was accustomed.

Shit! A hand flew up to stroke his cheeks. He hadn't shaved since before the trip to the clinic. There wasn't a bit of stubble gracing his cheeks. He dropped his hand to his chest. He'd never been blessed with a hairy chest like Dad or Sam. But now the few strands of maleness he had had were definitely gone. He brushed over a nipple in passing. The nub tightened instantly, sending a spark of heat down between his legs.

"The wiring works" Dean muttered to himself as he dialed the shower down to an icy stream. "Maybe too well."

 

Sam ran hard, pushing himself. He needed to expend the energy surging within his body. It felt good to run. To be out in the cool, clear morning air. Summer's greenery was edging toward autumn. The sumacs blazed. Wild asters bloomed vivid purple all along the trail. The lake was still. The early rays of the sun sparkled across the blue, blue water. It was a start of a beautiful day. 

And finally, Sam felt some sense of accomplishment. Dean had listened. Dean had heard. They had made a connection- however small, however tenuous- it was a start. Together they could make it work. Together...

Ahead, in the distance, a white tailed doe stepped out of the brush onto the path. She froze, eyeing the area, alert for any danger. Momentum carried Sam two paces closer before he could stop. He bent forward, resting hands on his thighs, as he drew oxygen into his laboring lungs while he admired the graceful creature. 

The tableau held for uncounted moments as the doe eyed the man and vice versa. Then with a twitch of its ears and a flick of its tail, the doe moved off into the greenery. Sam straightened to continue his run but froze as one then another speckled fawn stepped onto the path in their mother's wake. The twins pranced playfully in the open. The larger one, Big Brother, Sam dubbed him with a grin, kicked up his heels then lead the way into the underbrush. Little brother followed closely.

Grinning, Sam appreciated his brief glimpse of nature's wonders. His only regret was that he could not share the experience with Dean.


	5. Chapter 5

Perspiration running down his face, soaking through his sweats, Sam slowed to a jog as the cabins came into view. Panting at the exertion, he let his heart gradually slow. It had been a good run. A good long run. Eager to share the beauty of the day with Dean, Sam hurried to their cabin. Maybe, before they packed up, if Dean wasn't too ravenous for breakfast, maybe they could take a walk down by the lake.

"Dean, I'm back!" Sam announced as he entered. "Dean?"

There was no answer. Sam made a quick check of the bathroom. It was also empty. Everything seemed to be in order. No signs of a struggle. But there was no sign of Dean either.

Had he misread Dean's mood that morning? Sam wondered, his sense of panic rising. He thought they had reached an understanding. He thought that they had made progress. Had he been wrong? Had Dean left him, run from him at the first chance? Sam glanced quickly around the cabin. Dean's duffle was still there, resting beside his own on the dresser. And Baby was still parked out front. Sam couldn't imagine Dean going anywhere and leaving Baby behind. At least not voluntarily. Surely if someone had taken Dean, he would have put up a fight. Unless, a growl filled Sam's throat, unless it had been John. Dean might willingly go with their father. Sam ran his hands through his sweat soaked hair. If John... But there was little chance that John would have found them in this out of the way spot. 

But where was Dean? He wouldn't do something stupid, would he? The thought came to Sam unbidden. Dean's whole life had been turned upside down. Suddenly the lake that had looked so beautiful, so peaceful, loomed ominously in Sam's mind. Tearing out of the cabin, at full speed, Sam chanted silently, 'Dean wouldn't! He couldn't!' He filled his lungs, ready to bellow his brother's name when a girlish squeal did just that. Sam froze. Hunter skills in play. That had come from the direction of the office. Sam redirected his footsteps. 

A young blonde woman ran, laughing, from around the far side of the lodge's office. She was too busy looking over her shoulder to notice Sam coming toward her from the opposite direction. Sam came to a standstill, watching her flight.

From the same direction that the girl had come, Dean rounded the corner. His face was bright with laughter, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. The blonde dodged left, then right, then left again with Dean gaining in pursuit. They circled a flowerbed, both weakened by laughter. With a sudden lunge forward, Dean reached across the the plantings to snag the girl's wrist. A tug, a quick step or two allowed Dean to wrap both arms around his prey. She laughed in mock protest, twisting in his arms. 

"I've got you!" Dean announced triumphantly. "Give it up!"

"You can't make me!" The blonde kicked up both feet, going limp in Dean's arms. Caught unprepared, her dead weight brought both of them down. Dean landed, sprawled half on top the young woman.

"Come on, Jo. I need it!" Dean struggled to hold her down. "Give it to me."

"No!" She laughed, bucking her hips up, trying halfheartedly to escape. "You can't make me."

"Jo," Dean growled, "You're asking for it." With no other resource, he tickled her ribs. Jo squealed with laughter, rolling and squirming on the lawn beneath Dean.

Sam witnessed their play with very mixed emotions. He couldn't remember ever seeing his brother laugh like that. Dean seemed utterly carefree. He seemed so happy. Sam heart ached at the realization, 'He's never been like that with me.'

Jealousy rose, hard and ugly. 'I hate this girl, whoever she is.' He fought back the urge to strangle her as he watched her gyrate beneath his Dean. The Alpha instinct to claim his mate surged within Sam. He battled to suppress the urge to seize Dean and claim what should be his and only his.

"Dean!" Unconsciously Sam used his Alpha command voice. It was gratifying to see his omega's response. Dean shot to his feet and swung around to face Sam. His head was instinctively lowered in submission. Jo lay at his feet, abandoned and confused by the abrupt end of their play. 

Mollified by his mate's immediate response, Sam softened his tone. "I've been looking for you. I thought you would be waiting for me in the cabin."

"Sorry." Dean answered, shuffling his feet like a naughty school boy called to the principal's office. "It's such a nice day. I stepped out to enjoy the sun." At his back Jo scrambled to her feet. She scowled at Sam. "I took a walk. I saw Jo trying to start the mower and offered my help."

Belatedly, Dean made introductions. "Sam, this is Jo. She and her mom own and run the lodge. Jo, this is my brother, Sam."

The blonde eyed him coolly. Had she heard the deference in Dean's tone? Could she understand their dynamic? Sam wondered. He doubted that she could detect the omega scent rising from Dean in response to Sam's Alpha show of dominance. Women and Betas were notoriously pheromone blind.

"Nice to meet you, Jo. I met your mother last night when we checked in." Sam offered trying to be polite before turning his attention back to his brother. "Did you get the mower running?"

"I would have, except she ran off with the spark plug. I was trying to get it back when you..."

"Yeah, I saw that." Sam answered dryly. "How about you finish up while I clean up. Then we can hit the road and grab breakfast..."

"Let me fix you breakfast!" Jo offered eagerly, doe eyes directed at Dean. "It's the least I can do to thank you for fixing the mower. What would you like? Eggs? Waffles? Pancakes?"

"It all sounds good to me." Dean responded with a sappy grin. "What do you say, Sammy? I'm really hungry!"

Nostrils flaring in squelched rage, Sam conceded for his brother's benefit. "Fine. I'll go shower and be back in 20 minutes."

"Don't hurry." Jo replied sweetly as she held out her hand to Dean. "We"ll get things started. Come on Dean." She cast one final triumphant look at Sam as she led Dean toward the corner of the house. "When you're ready, come around to the back door. We'll be in the kitchen."

Jaw clenched, lips set in a thin line, Sam watched the blonde vixen lead off his mate. Could Dean really be that dense that he didn't see her ploys?, Sam thought as he hustled back to their cabin. To himself he vowed that he would be walking in that kitchen in under 15 minutes. 

 

"More pancakes, Dean?" Jo asked sweetly, lifting the platter from the table in front of Sam to offer it to Dean. "How about another sausage?"

"As tempted as I am," Dean smiled graciously, "I'll be popping buttons if I eat another bite."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jo countered, batting her lashes at him. "You could stand a few extra pounds. Some good home cooking would build up your muscles even more than they are."

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes toward the ceiling. He thought he detected a sympathetic head shake from Ellen regarding her daughter's blatant flirtations.

"Jo, honey," Ellen prompted. "You best start clearing the table. We've got a lot of work ahead of us today." Hopefully that would put an end to this embarrassing display.

"I've been thinking on that, Mom. You know how we've been looking for a handyman? Why not hire Dean- and Sam- to help around the place. There's more than enough work for two. They could start today. Room and board in exchange for labor. Dean said they were short on cash..."

"Jo Beth Harvelle, you are talking out of turn! And you are embarrassing our guests!"

"But Mom! It would be great. Dean is really good with his hands. And Sam looks strong..."

"Jo! That's enough. Sam and Dean are our guests. They're traveling through. They have places to be."

"No, they don't." Jo insisted, stamping her foot for added emphasis. "Dean said he liked it here. That he wants to stay..."

"I said, Enough! Drop it."

Sam rose, face closed. "Dean, lets go!" Dean could do nothing but obey.

 

Sam led the way outside. He set a brisk pace and held his tongue until they were back to their cabin. In the privacy of their room, he rounded on his brother.

"Did you really tell her that?"

"I don't know, Sammy. Maybe. She asked a lot of questions. And she was easy to talk to. She was interested in what I had to say. And I didn't see any harm since we'd be moving on right away."

"But you like it here? You'd like to stay?" Sam persisted.

Dean shrugged, shuffling his feet under his Alpha's baleful stare. He kept his silence, staring at the wood floor.

"Did you want to stay because of the girl?"

Dean's head snapped up, green eyes wide with innocence. "Girl? What girl?"

Sam huffed in exasperation. "Jo. She's been flirting with you all morning!"

"Flirting? No! She was just being friendly."

"She wasn't being all that friendly to me." Sam countered grumpily. "De, she's a young woman who sees a handsome man. One that she is attracted to..."

Dean's expression of complete confusion was enough to reassure Sam that the attraction had been one sided. Sam's Alpha outrage throttled back, allowing his Alpha concern for his mate's wellbeing to come to the fore.

"Why did you want to stay here longer?" He asked, reaching out to Dean.

"It's quiet here." Dean shrugged, turning away in embarrassment. "Private. I don't have to face people and their pitying eyes."

Sam sighed, kicking himself for not having considered that. It was true that Bobby was a safe haven for them. But Dean would also be faced with the reaction of the man who was more a father to them than their own flesh and blood.

"We don't have to go to Bobby's." Sam offered quietly.

"No, it's okay. I want to see him. And I- we can't hide forever. It's just- It would be easier, when I do face him, if I knew if I was...." Dean couldn't force himself to voice the possibility.

"Pregnant?" 

"Yeah, that."

"It's too early for any test to be definitive. But it's best, wisest to assume that you are until it is proven that you're not."

"Yeah. I suppose you're right." Dean sank heavily unto the edge of the bed.

Looking at his brother, Sam felt like he had kicked a puppy. "I'll go talk to Ellen. Now that I think about it, there are advantages to Jo"s offer. If Ellen is willing, I'll see if we can reach an agreement. No promises," He cautioned, "But I'll try."

"Thanks, Sammy."

 

"Baby girl of mine," Ellen began totally exasperated with her daughter. "You need to stop this right now and put it in reverse cuz you are going the wrong way down a one way street."

"I'm not a baby!" Jo retorted, pouting. "What's wrong with asking them to stay? Dean is clever with his hands. He's nice and polite and helpful. He offered to fix the mower. And it's running as good as new now."

"And if he was covered in warts and ugly as sin would you still be sticking out that lip for a bird to perch on?"

Jo rolled her eyes at her mother. "He's nice, Mom. Yes, he's cute. Does that disqualify him from getting a job?"

"No, of course not. Your idea ain't half bad. But the why's and the how's of your suggestion were wrong, wrong, wrong. First off, we should have discussed this privately before you ever proposed it to an outsider. That's what partners do, honey. 

"Secondly, you don't mix business with pleasure.

"And finally, sweetheart, you're barking up the wrong tree." Jo opened her mouth to protest but Ellen cut her off. "I done told you about the birds and the bees, the Alphas and the omegas. Dean ain't looking at you to be anything but a friend. That's just the way it is, honey. Trust your mama in this this."

"What are you saying?" Jo demanded. "That they are more than just brothers? That they're mates? I don't believe it."

"You know the omega laws as well as I do, Jo. Every family has to have an omega. And in that family, it sure isn't Sam."

 

Sam arrived at the kitchen door in time to hear a teenaged roar of frustrated hormones followed by the distant slam of a door. Obviously this wasn't a good time to ask for a job. Sam was about to turn around when Ellen opened the door. It wasn't hard to read the frustration on her face or to guess the cause of it.

"I can see that this isn't a good time." He began.

"With teenagers there is no good time. It's just one crisis after another. Do yourself a favor, don't have a daughter."

"You don't really mean that."

Ellen laughed. "You're right. I don't. Jo's my greatest treasure- which also makes her my greatest worry."

"I get that." Sam agreed with a heartfelt chuckle. He was very familiar with that concept.

"I apologize for my daughter. She's young and not very experienced in the ways of the world. She has a lot to learn."

"She's a smart kid with a good mother. I don't think you have to worry. She'll be okay. And you don't need to apologize. I understand the attraction completely. In fact, she has good taste."

"It's nice of you to be so understanding. But making me feel better isn't why you came here. How can I help you, Sam?"

Sam tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He hated to ask for favors. But for Dean he was willing to beg if need be. "I was wondering about the job that Jo mentioned. If you are looking for a handyman, maybe we could discuss terms."

"You're interested in the job? I didn't expect that from you." Ellen eyed him, trying to calculate what angle he was playing. "Why would you want to work here?"

Sam shrugged. The answer was obvious to him. "Dean wants to stay. He likes it here."

"Because of Jo?"

Sam shook his shaggy head. "No I'm sorry. I honestly don't think he gave her a second thought." Sam wasn't sure how much he should say but he felt Ellen deserved an explanation. "This is new for him. He's still adjusting. Learning how to handle it all. We both are. We're trying to find our balance. Dean feels safe here. Comfortable. That's important to me."

"You're a good Alpha, Sam. Many wouldn't be that considerate of their mate." Ellen paused, sizing him up. "Let's give it a go on a trial basis. If it doesn't work for either party, we can call it off. No questions, no excuses. Just a so long, it's been nice to know you. Agreed?"

"One condition: Dean does no heavy lifting. And no exposure to toxic chemicals."

"He's carrying?" Ellen asked, genuinely surprised.

"It's a possibility." Sam admitted. "It's too early to know for sure yet."

"Should he be doing manual labor, at all?" Ellen was concerned, she didn't want the authorities coming down on her for fetal endangerment.

"I don't think there's any way to stop him. He'll expect to do his share. I'll make sure he doesn't overdo. He's my responsibility."

Ellen went with her gut. "Can you start today?"

"Yes, ma'am. Where do we begin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I know that I promised you some sexual action soon but i felt that an omega role in this AU needed to be explored more. And how Dean fits into that role. The sex is coming, I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are working hard to find their balance.

Ellen's old Chevy pickup bounced down the road, rattling Sam's teeth, not to mention his bones, nearly pitching his laptop onto the floor with every pothole. Apparently road maintenance was not a priority in this county. Sam knew he should slow down. The road may have been paved but the number of patches and potholes made it worse than any washboard gravel road they had ever traversed. 

And as an extra bonus in the the discomfort category, the truck's suspension was shot. Sam swore as the vehicle took a particularly hard jolt, knocking his head against the ceiling and his shoulder against the door frame. He battled to steer around the next land mine. Maybe he could talk Ellen into springing for new shock absorbers. Dean could do the installation. Dean would love to do the job-- keeping his Baby and Dad's F150 running smoothly had been Dean's joy in life.

The thought of their father soured Sam's frame of mind. Should he try to contact John? He'd brought his laptop along, intending to find a wifi connection to message Bobby. He wanted Bobby to know that they were safe. That their delay was their choice. He didn't want Bobby worrying. But John? John could go fuck himself! Legally, Sam knew, their father had as much right to Dean as he did. But morally, John was guilty of abandoning his son when Dean had needed him most. Sam was convinced that Dean wouldn't have needed that second traumatic visit to the omega clinic if John had stayed to help him through his first heat.

Sam had tried, he remembered bitterly. He had tried til he was beyond exhausted but alone he hadn't been enough to satisfy Dean's needs. He had failed his brother when Dean needed him most. He had to allow anonymous strangers to fuck his brother back to sanity. That wasn't right! In Sam's opinion, it was just one more epic example of John Winchester's abysmal parenting. Not for the first time, Sam wondered if their father felt any love for his sons at all. Or were they just tools for him to use in his hunter's quest-- like a good blade or a favorite gun-- you might like it, be proud to have it but it wouldn't leave a hole in your life if you lost it.

Losing Dean wouldn't put a hole in Sam's life. Losing Dean would destroy Sam's life. Dean was Sam's life. For as far back as Sam could remember, Dean had been there for him- caring for him, protecting him, loving him in oh so many ways. Now, Sam thought, firming his jaw, it was his turn to be there for Dean. He vowed silently that he would not fail his brother again.

 

"Cedar Lake, population 3457" The sign at the edge of the town announced. Sam slowed the truck to the posted speed limit. Ellen had called ahead to the lumberyard to order the materials they would need. And to authorize Sam to do the pick up. She'd told him that the lumberyard was on the far side of town. He intended to cruise through looking for a cyber spot before he loaded up.

Nothing looked very promising. Cedar Lake was a hick town, for sure. A small grocery, a drug store, an antique shop, the corner gas station plus three grungy bars anchored Main Street. There were more than a half dozen empty storefronts that spoke of more prosperous times. In the distance, Sam noted the sprawl of the lumberyard. Just as he was about to give up, he spotted the town's library. It was a venerable old building, most likely a Carnegie grant library. Sam hoped that they'd upgraded the technology since it had opened. He pulled over to park at the curb. Clutching his messenger satchel Sam bounded up the steps. 

His first order of business was to send Bobby a brief message that they were safe but delayed. He thought about it then added that they were taking some time off and would be beyond cell phone or Internet contact. He promised to check his email at least twice weekly. He debated whether he should tell Bobby where they were holding up. But, he decided, if Bobby didn't know then he couldn't tell John. No doubt that would piss the man off big time. But Sam figured that Dean had enough to cope with without having to be Dad's perfect soldier as well as a new omega. 

Satisfied, Sam rounded out his library visit by downloading three U-tube videos of roofing tutorials. He took the time to review a few brief bits of each to be sure the downloads had worked. What he saw had him wondering just what he'd gotten himself into. The work didn't look difficult, just sweaty and backbreaking. Well at least it would be honest work.

After leaving the library, Sam locked his computer in the truck cab then walked over to the drug store. It looked like some basic supplies would be advisable- sunscreen, muscle analgesic, some O.T. C. pain relievers. Sam paused to read the fine print on the labels. 

"Can I help you, sir?" Asked the Beta male wearing a pharmacy smock.

"I was just wondering if these are omega safe."

"That one is not recommended. Oms are sensitive to NSAIDs. Ibuprofen would be a better choice but be sure to watch the dosage. And if he's carrying, it's best to just let him suffer through. Then warm/cool compresses and bed rest are recommended."

The guy must have detected the uncertainty that Sam was feeling. "If you're not sure if he's caught from the breeding, we carry a full line of omega pregnancy tests. 'OmBlessed' is the most reliable. Ninety eight percent when used four weeks post heat. Or 'FirstOm' is eighty percent accurate 10 days post heat."

"It's still too early to tell" Sam admitted reluctantly.

"Oh well, I see. Then it is best to error on the side of caution. I can give you a thirty day supply of omega gestational vitamin supplements. At no charge. State issue, ya know. Got to take care of our oms. You want to be sure he's getting enough iron and folic acid for proper fetal development. And if he should test negative, there's no harm. You've just got him properly prepped for his next heat. You're sure to have success then."

"Thanks." Sam managed, not sure how he felt about the possibility of the test being negative. Or positive. "I'll take these. And I want one of each of those test kits you recommended."

"Excellent, sir. Very wise. Right this way, sir. And what form of payment will you be using?"

Sam pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slipped out a bogus credit card. A new one that neither John nor Bobby could track back to them.

 

"I'm not a fucking Disney princess sitting on a goddamn tuffet!" Dean shouted, red in the face.

Sam sighed. He knew Dean wasn't going to take this well. "You're mixing your metaphors, bro."

"Stuff it, brainiac!" Dean glared at him. "Sammy, I can pull my share!"

"No, Dean, you can't. You follow the rules or I call off the deal with Ellen and we move on to Bobby's."

"Dammit! I can work!"

"Oh, don't worry! You'll work. There's plenty of work for both of us. But no ladder work. No lifting anything heavier than 25 pounds. And no chemicals stronger than VOC paints. Agreed?"

Sam waited. He could be as stubborn as Dean any day. Especially when it mattered.

 

It took a few minutes for the quiet to register for Dean. The steady rhythm of hammering had stopped. After six days of living with the resounding echo as Sam nailed each shingle into place, now it was quiet. 

Dean pulled himself upright. He hurried toward their cabin, the last to be re-roofed. As he drew near, he looked up to see Sam poised against the clear blue August sky. He stood hip shot on the sloping roof, mopping sweat from his face. After the days of hard work, he was bronzed, hard muscled, beautiful.

Dean felt a wave of warmth in his guts. It was a liquid flow of arousal that once would have stunned him. Now it was becoming natural. Maybe even welcome. 

Sam was working his way across the roof, headed toward the ladder. Dean hurried forward. "Wait for me to brace it." He called out, quickly moving into position. Sam obeyed.

After their initial argument, they had settled into an agreeable work pattern. Sam up the ladder, on the roof, bent over to scrap off the old cedar shingles, then kneeling to hammer down the new. Dean, on the ground, manning wheelbarrow and shovel to clear the debris to the waiting dumpster. Or power washing the cabins' exteriors in preparation for the next job- staining.

The roofing was exhausting, backbreaking work but it was exactly what they had needed. Simple physical labor that left their bodies drained of energy, too tired for temptation. Each night they fell into their shared bed, exhausted, muscles aching, and brains fogged with fatigue. If the thought of exploring their new relationship occurred to either brother, the demand for sleep soon overwhelmed it.

Each morning they rose at dawn to take advantage of the cool morning hours. Sam would hustle himself into the bathroom to deal with his morning Alpha wood. Dean would throw open the cabin's windows to clear the air of the spiced blend of Alpha/omega arousal. They both knew what was simmering. They both felt it building. But for now, for today, it could be deferred, sublimated by hard physical labor. It wasn't an answer to their sexual tension but it was a much needed reprieve.

Sam swung off the ladder. He snatched up the thermal jug of ice water. Parched by the sun and the work, he drank deeply.

"You're done?" Dean asked, he knew the answer by reading Sam's body language but he wanted to hear the confirmation.

"Yeah! Every damn inch is covered. Good and tight." Sam answered with a righteous sense of pride. "And remind me to never take a shit ass honest job like this again!"

Dean quirked a grin, his green eyes were sparkling, his usual dusting of freckles were even more pronounced with his deepening tan. Good god, he's beautiful, Sam thought, feeling a tug in his loins. His hand rose to swipe at a smear of dirt marring Dean's jaw. To both their surprise, Dean automatically leaned into his touch. Sam instinctively moved closer, his mouth descending...

A cascade of giggles sounded in the near distance. Jo. Sam retreated, not wanting to embarrass Dean with a public display. He bit back a sigh of frustration. The moment had felt right. Spontaneous. But...

A broad hand caught the nape of Sam's neck, pulled him back into proper position. Their lips met. Briefly. Wonderfully.

Sam stepped back just as Jo rounded the corner. Dean allowed his retreat, a glint of bedevilment in his eyes.

"It's done? You're done?" She spun around, babbling mainly to herself, as she circled the brothers. "I can sleep until noon tomorrow!" Neither Sam nor Dean responded. They were immersed in each other.

Soon Ellen came, bearing a tray of glasses with a pitcher of lemonade. "Looks like we have a reason to celebrate!" She announced, perching her burden on the top step of their cabin. 

"A break would be great." Sam began, shaking off their self absorption. "Very welcome. Then I can start on the staining.

"No." Ellen stated firmly as she poured a round of lemonade. "You're taking the rest of the day off. Both of you. And tomorrow too."

"But-" 

"No arguments." She cut him off, thrusting a glass into his hand. "Sam, even the Lord rested on the seventh day. You boys have earned a break. Take a dip in the lake. Read a book. Nap in the shade. I don't care what you do but no work. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." They answered in near unison. 

"Now lunch will be ready in an hour. You boys get cleaned up. Don't be late." She caught Dean's eye with a saucy wink. "I made a surprise just for you!"

 

"Ellen, we can't take this." Sam set the envelope of cash on the kitchen table. 

"Why not? You've earned it."

"Our deal was work for room and board. You've been more than generous with our meals. You've even done our laundry. And mending.

"I sewed on a few buttons." Ellen dismissed her effort. "When we made that deal I didn't expect you to work twelve hour days. To do two weeks worth of work in one. This covers that extra. And puts some change in your pockets."

"Ellen, this is more than pocket change."

"You've earned every bit of it." She insisted, placing the envelope in Sam's hand again. She turned quickly to Dean. He had been too busy stuffing his face to join in the disagreement. "How's that pie?"

"Best I ever had!" He declared, licking the last bit of cherry filling from his fork.

"Want another piece?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Glad to see that at least one of you knows better than to argue with the boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter. I promise. It's three fourths written. And it feels right, at least to me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises to keep... Some things about Dean have changed but Dean is still Dean. At some point he confronts his problems head on, consequences be damned.

"You're sure, Dean?"

"Damn it, Sammy! Stop asking me that." His mind set, Dean began to strip off his clothes with determination. "I've always known we'd be together. We"ve both known it since Dad explained the facts of life." Dean tried a shrug of nonchalance. To Sam's experienced eyes, it came off as forced, practiced. "So it's not quite as I imagined it would be. Doesn't mean it won't be okay."

"Okay?" Sam questioned with a touch of dismay. "You'll settle for just 'okay? I want more than 'okay.'"

Dean huffed out his exasperation. "You trying to kill the mood?" Hands on his hips, gloriously naked, he confronted his brother. "If you don't want to do this- If you don't want me, just say so. Stop fucking around about my feelings, me being ready and all that shit. Who's the goddamn Alpha here?"

"I want you!" Sam shot back. The sight of Dean's body had his cock throbbing within the confines of his jeans. "If you can't see that, you're not only stupid, you're blind." The heady combination of Alpha/omega pheremones was making Sam's head spin. "But I want it to be good for you-- for us. Perfect..."

"Life ain't a chick flick, Sammy. In case you haven't noticed, we don't get perfect. Everything's changed. I don't know the rules anymore." He raked one hand through his hair. "Hell! I'm such a dim bulb, I don't even know if there are any rules anymore. There's just one thing I know. If I can trust anyone, I can trust you. The law says every family has to have an omega. Every omega has to have an Alpha. I'm asking you to be my Alpha. I promise that I'll try to be a good omega for you? We don't need roses and romance. We got each other. That's all we need to make it work." 

Dean closed in. The sweet cinnamon and smoke scent of omega arousal challenged Sam's reasoning. Of their own volition, it seemed, his hands rose to caress the broad shoulders. Sam's head lowered to claim those luscious lips. Quick hands popped the button on his jeans, clever fingers reached in to find his erection.

"Dean!" Sam gasped against his mouth. "Slow down. It's not a race."

"Don't want slow. Don't need to be wooed and cooed. Got no cherry. I've waited long enough. I don't remember much from my heat but I know this is the equipment I'm stuck with. Celibacy ain't for me. Come on, Sasquatch, show me how an Alpha knots an omega."

"No, De." Sam replied, grasping the exploring hands. "Let me show you how Sam loves his Dean."

Sam placed a row of gentle kisses across Dean's brow, where a small frown had gathered. "I love your mind- so quick to make decisions." His mouth journeyed on to brush over each eyelid. "I love your eyes. They're like jade. You've seen some of the worst this world holds but you still look for the good."

Sam claimed Dean's lips again, sending his tongue to map the wet heat within. "I love your mouth-- so quick with a comeback or a wisecrack to brighten my day." His lips moved on to dust kisses along Dean's collarbone. "I love your shoulders. You've carried the responsibility for me since forever. Your arms have sheltered me, protected me." He raised their joined hands to kiss their entwined fingers. "Your hands have guided me."

Sam moved lower to place kisses at the hollow of one hip. "I love your strut that says you are a badass dude that can handle whatever is thrown at you." He kissed Dean's navel. "I love you, Dean. All of you. In whatever form you are. You are a part of me. My best part. I love you." He murmured, kissing the flat belly again and again. "And I thank God for the day you were born."

Unsteady fingers carded through Sam's shaggy hair. A gentle tug encouraged him to look up, to meet those liquid green eyes.

"You..." Dean began, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "Love you." He smiled at the look of wonder that overtook that beloved face. "But," Dean feigned exasperation, "You just turned my porn vid into a chick flick."

Sam chuckled against Dean's belly. "We can fix that." He promised gruffly, kissing a path to Dean's groin. He felt Dean startle as he took the soft shaft into his mouth. 

"Don't!" Dean protested brokenly. A sour tinge rose to offset their arousal. "I can't!"

Sam pulled back. He looked up at this man he loved beyond all reason. "De, it's okay. Trust me. Please. Let me love you."

The jade eyes were bright with unshed tears. The smattering of freckles stood bold against pale cheeks. Dean swallowed hard, confronting his self doubts, his self loathing. The look of absolute adoration in those puppy dog eyes staring up at him, gave Dean the courage to accept Sam's offering. Taking a fortifying breath, he gave a small nod of agreement.

Sam smiled softly, acknowledging the trust he was being given. Once again he kissed their joined hands before returning to his goal. The shaft lay limp and lonely, shriveled at the nexus of Dean's thighs. It was an easy mouthful to take in. Sam tongued the soft organ, varying the suction of his mouth. Gradually, little by little, he felt the tension in Dean's body change, ebbing then sharpening in a new distinctly different way.

Sam eased back, allowing the shaft to slip from between his lips. It stood before his appreciative eyes, fuller, wet with his saliva. He blew a cool stream of air down its length. The organ twitched, the prepuce retracting to reveal the hidden tip. Sam smiled to himself, privately appreciating the benefit of thorough research. His confidence reinforced, he returned to his task. Within the wet heat of Sam's mouth, Dean's penis grew, lengthening, firming to a respectable erection.

Dean's fingers combed through his hair, occasionally straying to the hollowing cheeks, to the suctioning lips, as if to verify that this was indeed happening. Dean's whole body was quaking. Unconsciously his hips began to thrust in sync with the amazing suction of Sammy's mouth. Wave after wave of sensation crested, each taking him higher, edging him toward the precipice. His fingers clenched in the shaggy hair. He needed an anchor. He wanted to fly free. An inarticulate cry broke from his throat. Followed by another. And another. Dean's whole body melted as he spilled down Sam's throat.

Sam's strength caught him, eased his lax body down onto the nearby mattress. Dean smiled up at him. Languidly he moved into a comfortable position. He spread his legs in invitation. But Sam did not join him. He stood, still clothed, seemingly frozen in admiration, in appreciation.

"Come on, Sammy, don't make me beg."

The husky plea broke Sam's reverie. He toed off his boots, shucked off his pants and shirt. He hurried to cover Dean with his body. Dean welcomed him with a full body hug, arms and legs wrapping around Sam' lean body to draw him closer. They kissed. Tongues entwined. Their bodies knew how to move. Sam drew his hands up the freckled thighs. Dean's body was angled perfectly. Sam moved into position. Dean was wet and welcoming. Slowly Sam advanced. Twin groans of appreciation filled their throats as Sam filled Dean.

Fully sheathed, they clutched at each other, hips grinding in a futile attempt to be even closer. The air was thick with their combined arousal. The scent- smoke, spices, leather and wood-- was a potent aphrodisiac. The desire to stay buried, balls deep in his mate was strong. The need to move stronger. Sam began a slow withdrawal until only the head of his shaft was still encased. His nerves sang with arousal as he glided back into that moist channel where he wanted to be.

The rhythm built, grew as they gasped a litany of encouragement and passion. Sam felt his knot swelling. They both could feel it catching on Dean's sensitive rim with each thrust. It was delicious torture. Too soon Sam felt his knot catch. He had to use more force, alter the angle to penetrate deeper. Beneath him, Dean spasmed, spewing omega spunk onto their bellies. Sam wanted to stay here forever, locked inside his mate, forever, spilling his essence into his moist, fertile depths.

 

Limbs tangled, bodies locked together, the pair lay replete. Sam brushed lazy figure eights up, down and across Dean's spine. Drowsy, satisfied, Dean snuggled closer to kiss the shoulder pillowing his head.

"It may not have been perfect," Dean whispered, "But that was pretty damn good."

"I want to give you perfect." Sam replied softly. "I want to give you everything that you should have had but never did." Strong arms closed around Dean, holding him even closer. "Love. Tenderness. Safety. Security. A home." Sam stroked the cropped hair. "A Christmas tree. A dog. A birthday cake."

Dean smiled into the iron hard bicep beneath his cheek. "I'd rather have pie."

Sam chuckled. "Birthday pie then!" He lifted his head to kiss the the crown of Dean's. "We should get some sleep."

"Sleep? Who needs sleep?" Sam's breath caught as he felt the silken channel contract around his waning knot. Dean lifted his head, grinning mischievously. "Ready for another round, little bro?"

 

Sam stepped up behind Dean, who seemed transfixed by his own reflection in the dresser's mirror. He laid a gentle hand on the freckled shoulder. "You okay?"

Dean laid his cheek on the comforting grip. "I'm fine." His tone was soft, pensive. "Stop worrying."

"Regrets?"

"Only that we wasted the last five years or so on solo hand jobs."

"You are incorrigible!" Sam shook his head, grinning at their reflections. 

"I suppose," Dean continued consideringly, "I should let my hair grow."

Sam's brows drew together into a baffled frown. After years of teasing from his brother about his preferred hairstyle, he didn't understand. "You want longer hair? Why?"

"I just figured-- you know-- that it would be better-- more appropriate, more attractive," Dean shrugged, his gaze dropping. "More girlie."

Sam maneuvered to confront his brother, with a gentle hand he tipped Dean's face up until their eyes met. 

"De, you don't have to change a thing for me. I love you just as you are. If you want to change something, do it for you. Not me. Or Dad. Or anyone else. Okay?"

Dean moved in for a kiss. "I love you too, Sammy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was important to me to show that Sam loves Dean, not Dean because he is an omega. And that despite what has happened Dean is still Dean. I hope you find my effort successful. 
> 
> Anatomically I do not think that a castrated man can achieve an erection or climax but HazelDomain established this in her story, "A Rose Among Thorns". And if we can can have pregnant males in this AU, then erection and ejaculation don't seem unreasonable.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes the pregnancy test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is not a democracy. Sorry if I disappoint any readers.

Sam stared at the innocuous pale green box. It was a small thing, roughly 5 inches by 2 inches. Its contents, he realized, would be even smaller. After all there would be packaging materials, instructions inside too. It bore an attractive logo of a branch sprouting a new leaf. How appropriate.

"First Om." The caption beneath read. "The most reliable early pregnancy test."

Sam tried to picture himself handing it to Dean. What should he say? What would Dean say? How would Dean react? Dean hadn't mentioned the possibility that he might be carrying since they had started working at the lodge. Dean had obeyed his work restrictions. Each day he silently swallowed the vitamin supplement. And from what Sam had seen, he was voluntarily abstaining from alcohol and caffeine. Sam hadn't talked about it either. It was almost as though they'd established an unspoken truce- Don't talk about the big"IF" and maybe it won't happen. 

Now it was the tenth day since the end of Dean's first heat. Test day, as he had labeled it in his mind. Their first chance to know. Did Dean want to know? Or was ignorance, bliss? The past couple of days had been good, really good. It had been a honeymoon of sorts. Sex. Lots of sex. Quiet talks full of 'maybes' and 'what ifs'. They'd shared secrets and dreams as they hadn't since they were kids. But they had both studiously avoided the subject of a possible, probable baby.

Sam's mouth tightened with determination. They'd been raised to deal with hard realities. Together they would face this possibility too.

Sam stepped out of the bathroom. His face was somber, his eyes silently pleading for Dean's understanding.

"You been two timing me with a water nymph?" Dean teased, leary of the look on his brother's face. 

Sam shook his shaggy head, smiling sadly. "I left something for you on the sink. Please follow the directions carefully. Then we'll talk. Okay?"

 

Dean stared at the damn little box. How could something so important be so small? How could something so small be so terrifying? He felt paralyzed. It was stupid, he knew. The contents of that box would not make him pregnant. He had more than a dozen anonymous Alphas to thank for that. And one known Alpha. His first Alpha- his Sammy. For Sam, he could do this.

Gritting his teeth, Dean gathered his resolve. He broke the package seal and slid out the contents. What was he afraid of? He chastised himself. He faced vampires, werewolves, ghosts and more. And lived to tell about it! Surely he could pee on a stupid piece of plastic and survive! 

Dean set aside the cellophane encased bit of plastic. He picked up the enclosed paper and read the detailed, step by step instructions. He read it through twice just to be sure. No winging it this time. No improv. Do it exactly as the damn thing wants and you'll know. Do I want to know? Dean thought in a brief flash of panic. I have to know, Dean lectured himself. Knowing the facts, knowing what you are facing is always better. Take it step by step. Do it. Step by step. Follow the directions.

When Dean stepped out of the bathroom, Sam eyed him closely. He was a bit pale but otherwise seemed fine. His mouth was set in a firm line. The green eyes were shadowed. Dean was silent. It seemed his thoughts were turned inward.

"Well?" Sam prompted, moving nearer. "Are you...?"

"You have to wait five minutes for the results." Dean shrugged. " I figured if a watched pot never boils then a watched stick never changes."

Sam gathered Dean close. "We'll wait together." He glanced at his watch as he maneuvered them to sit on the edge of the bed. He kissed Dean"s temple, holding him close. Unconsciously he began a gentle rocking motion. It was soothing for them both.

 

Five minutes. Five minutes can seem like a lifetime. Five minutes can determine a life.

Sam shifted slightly to glance at his watch again. He kissed Dean's temple once more. "It's time." He stated quietly. "Do you want me to go look? Or would you rather do it on your own?"

Dean stood. He held out his hand. "We're in this together, right?"

"Right."

It was only six steps to the bathroom. Each man took a fortifying breath as they stepped into the smaller room. Two steps would get them to the sink, where the little bit of white plastic lay. Sam pulled up short just inside the bathroom.

"How do you read it? What will it say?"

"'NO' if I'm not. 'YES' if I am." Dean answered in a strained voice. 

Sam firmed his grip on Dean's hand. Together they had faced monsters. Together they could face this. Sam stepped forward. Dean stayed rooted where he was.

"Come on." Sam encouraged. "We'll count to three and then we'll look. Deal?"

The air in the small room was flooded with the acrid scent of omega fear. Dean's eyes were too bright. They were fixed on their reflections in the mirror. Dean managed a small nod of agreement. Two steps, and suddenly Sam found himself supporting Dean's limp body. As he swept the dead weight up into his arms, he eyed the tell tale plastic stick. In the little window was a bold, 'YES' with smiley face emoticon.

Sam sighed. A torrent of emotions flooded his head, his heart. He looked down at the pale, slack face of his brother. Life it seemed was never easy for the Winchesters.

Dean regained consciousness on their shared bed. He was laying prone, a cool, damp washcloth folded across his forehead. Sammy hovered over him. One look into those worried eyes, had him groaning and rolling to face the wall.

Sam spoke to his back. "De, listen to me. I'm not going to lie to you. It's truth time. This is too important for anything less." Sam inhaled deeply. "You are pregnant. I know you're upset. You're probably scared. Confused. I'm here for you, Dean. I want to help."

"Then you have the kid!" Dean mumbled, punching the mattress.

"I wish I could." Sam answered fervently. "I've spent years waiting to have your baby. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. I can't change that. I would if I could. But, Dean, please believe me. I want this baby. I love this baby!" 

Dean whipped around to face him. His voice was harsh with anger. "That's bull shit! Ten minutes ago, we didn't even know there was a baby. How can you love something that didn't even exist?" He shook off Sam's comforting touch. 

"For me, this baby became a reality when Dad left you in my care after the surgery. I watched you suffer through the pain, the fever, the indignities. I hated seeing you suffer. But I told myself, it would be okay. It would be worth it when your- our baby was born. We'd be a family. Finally we'd be a family."

"That's a pretty little fantasy, you got there." Dean snarled. "Only problem is its my body that's going to swell up like a whale. I'm the one that has to shit this thing out my ass! You talk about pain! About indignities! The fun just doesn't end!"

"Dean, please, listen to me. I love you. I love this baby, our baby. I want us to be a family."

"What about what I want, Sammy? When do I get what I want!" Dean shouted at him.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, already afraid that he wouldn't like the answer.

"I want my life back! I want to be what I was. A fucking Alpha. A hunter. Strong. Unafraid. In control!"

"I wish I could give you back that life." Sam reached out, gripping Dean's shuddering shoulders. "I would if I could. But that's not possible. I can't work that miracle." Silent tears were tracking down the pale freckled cheeks. Sam drew the stiff body of his brother into his arms. 

"I can't do this, Sammy! I'm nobody's goddamn mother!"

You were my mother, Sam wanted to argue. You were the only parent I had most of my childhood. Dad was never there when we needed him. I want to have a family with you. I want- I want you to be happy. Sam swallowed his dreams. He couldn't force Dean to be what he wasn't meant to be. He had promised Dean that he would have the right to choose his life, it was time to live up to those words. Biting the bullet, Sam began. "I told you before I won't let you risk yourself to a back alley butcher but there are ways to terminate a pregnancy. If that is what you want, I can," Sam gulped down his pain. "I know how."

Dean's head snapped up to demand. "You can get rid of it?"

"In the lore, there are recipes for purges, douches. They are said to be most effective if used in the first trimester. So we have time to consider..."

"I don't need time! I want this thing out of me now!"

"Dean, you should think about this. Take time to decide. Right now you're operating on your gut reaction. You should carefully consider all your options."

"There's only one option I want. You just want time so you can lecture me. But I won't change my mind. There's nothing you can say to make me want this."

Sam huffed out a defeated breath. "Alright, no lectures. I promise."

"And no puppy dog eyes pleading with me to give in."

I don't... I promise to keep my opinions to myself." Sam conceded, "But you have to promise me you will think about the consequences. I'll need some time to get what's needed." Sam was thinking fast, making plans. "The pharmacist in town knows you might be carrying. He's probably already reported us to Omega Services. I didn't tell him we were at the Lodge but eventually they'll get wind of us and come calling. They'll want to register you and verify your condition."

"We'll have to move on. I don't want to leave Ellen and Jo in the lurch but we can't do it here and risk implicating them. I'll let Ellen know we're leaving. Two weeks notice. If we can't finish the work, she'll have time to hire someone else."

"They've been good to us." Dean agreed. "I don't want to make trouble for them. But two weeks, Sam, that's a long time to wait."

"Damn it, Dean." Sam raked both hands through his long hair. "Two weeks is nothing. This is a decision we will both have to live with for the rest of our lives. Promise me that you'll use those two weeks to carefully consider if this is what you really want."

"I promise." Dean answered sullenly. "If you promise to help me get rid of this thing."

That 'thing' is an innocent child, Sam wanted to argue, a baby I already love. But he saw the look of desperation in his brother's eyes, scented the fear. Which love did he betray? Sam sighed. When it came down to it, he had no choice. Dean would always be his first priority. With a heavy heart he conceded, "I promise."

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam nodded, acknowledging Dean's appreciation. "It's getting late. I'm going to get started on the job. I don't think I can stomach breakfast now. I'll talk to Ellen later, unless you want to tell her we're leaving."

"I don't feel much like breakfast either. But I need to see what job she has in mind for me today. I'll play it by ear if I tell her or not." Dean smiled sadly, looking around their cabin, remembering how good the past days had been. " I'll be sorry to leave this place."

Thinking of all the implications, Sam nodded, he didn't want to go either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess I can't figure out how to change the original end notes. As you can read, I've chosen to make Dean pregnant. Many, most of my readers commented that they wanted Sam and Dean to develop their relationship before the pregnancy occurred. Ideally that's how it would be but life is rarely that perfect. And relationships are forged under good times and bad. That's what makes them strong. I sincerely hope I haven't disappointed or offended anyone. Please stick with me for more of the story.


	9. Chapter 9

Ellen came looking for Sam later that morning. As usual she found him hard at work, brushing stain onto the aged pine boards siding one of her cabins. From the shade, she stood watching for awhile. She certainly couldn't fault either of these boys on their work ethic. Someone had undoubtedly held them to high standards in their formative years. Sam was working with a single mindedness that was a bit disturbing to the mother in her. Both of these Winchester boys were obsessive in whatever they committed to. Where did they get that drive?, she wondered. Enough, Ellen decided, that young man would work himself to death if she didn't intervene.

"Break time!" Ellen called out to Sam. She set the thermos and the foil wrapped packet she had brought onto the convenient arm of an Adirondack chair. 

"No thanks." Sam called back to her, without looking. "I just got started." Sam sighed. The last thing he wanted to do now was stop working. He dipped the brush into the bucket again. With fluid motions he swept the stain across the aged wood. The stain soaked in quickly. He wanted to keep working. If he worked, simple physical labor, he didn't have to think. He could count- four strokes- before he needed to dip the brush into the bucket again. Each time he reloaded the brush he could cover about five square feet. This cabin was one of the family units. It was roughly ten by twelve feet. The walls were eleven feet high. He could do the math. He could calculate the square footage. He could-

"Sam Winchester! Don't make me climb up there to get you!" Ellen put a note of sharpness in her voice. "When the boss says its break time, the hired help says, 'Yes, Ma'am'! Now get your skinny ass over here, I need to talk to you."

The last thing Sam wanted to do was talk. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to... He shot an annoyed look Ellen's way. She was waiting impatiently in the shade, cradling a file folder in the crook of one arm. She didn't look like she was going anywhere soon. Fine! The boss wanted him to take a break. The boss wanted to talk. He'd take a break. But he be damned if he'd talk about anything personal. Laying his brush across the open pail, Sam stepped off the ladder. 

"The wood is really soaking up that stain. It's like a sponge." Sam began, making his way over to where Ellen waited. "We may need more stain."

Ellen eyed the stack of buckets waiting to be opened. "I'd say you've got enough to see you through today. I wanted to talk to you about that satellite set up that you recommended." She settled into one of the chairs, making herself comfortable. "I brought you some sandwiches. You can't do a decent day's work on an empty stomach. Eat." 

Sheer pigheadedness almost had him refusing the food. But his stomach chose that moment to demonstrate its emptiness with a loud rumble of interest. Sam sank into the chair beside Ellen's. Mechanically he unwrapped the foil packet. In it were four buttermilk biscuits filled with sliced ham and cheese. Like Pavlov's dogs, his mouth watered. 

"There's apple cider in the thermos." Ellen said off handedly. "Go ahead and eat." She urged. She wouldn't mention his stomach growls. She didn't want to embarrass the boy. He had his pride. Ellen opened the folder across her lap. "I been looking into your suggestion about the satellite hook up. Doing some research." She shook her head. "It's a big chunk of change. And the salesmen are slick. Too slick. Everyone of them. They all want to lock you into a long term contract with page after page of fine print."

Sam shifted the mouthful he was chewing, intending to restate the necessity of Internet technology. 

Ellen silenced him with a look. "I know it's needed. Apparently 'getting away from it all' doesn't mean leaving your tech toys at home." Ellen shook her head, baffled by the younger generation. "This one." She pulled a brochure from the folder and offered it to Sam. "Looks to me to be the best deal. They offer, Internet, cell phone and tv. They want to build a tower on our property. If I agree, the installation will be free. At least that's what Mr. Slick says. I'm asking you to look this over. Give me your two cents worth. Tomorrow or the next day."

"Sure thing." Sam agreed, pleased to have something to occupy his mind other than their personal problems. "I'll be happy to help any way I can."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Ellen went on, looking very pleased with herself. "Jo says we need a website. She claims the lodge won't ever be successful if we don't advertise and take reservations over that damn internet."

"I'd say she's right. Folks don't just set off driving and pull into a pretty place for the night."

"You did."

"Yeah, well, Dean and I aren't your average tourists." Sam frowned thinking of his brother.

Ellen busied herself, opening the thermos, pouring a cup of cider. She handed it to Sam. She made note of Sam's expression but didn't comment on it. "Jo says we need this website thing, but she's got no idea how to go about it. Can you do it? Can you make a website for us?"

"Yeah, I can, but-" Sam took a deep breath. He had to tell her sooner, rather than later. "Dean and I have to be moving on. I thought, I mean, I figured I give you our two week notice then we have to hit the road."

"Oh." Ellen hadn't expected that. "We'll be sorry to see you go. You've both been such great help." She didn't know quite what to say. Maybe she should ask them to stay longer. She could plead desperation. Tears would probably work. These were good, soft hearted boys.

Sam misread her hesitation. "Don't worry, I can get the staining done during the day and work on the website in the evenings." Sam was actually glad to have the extra work. It would be a distraction, an excuse not to talk to Dean. He couldn't tell Ellen that of course.

"I suppose that explains it." Ellen processed the situation. "Dean was real quiet at breakfast this morning. He pushed around his pancakes but barely ate more than a bite or two." She studied Sam. "You two have a fight?"

"Not really." Sam didn't want to get Ellen involved but it was hard to resist a sympathetic ear. "We did the test this morning." Sam shrugged, feeling helpless. "Dean isn't happy with the results."

"He's carrying?" Ellen surmised.

"Yeah." Sam stared off into the distance, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He shouldn't say anything more but the words slipped out, barely audible. "He doesn't want the baby."

"Oh, Sam, it's just shock. It's not real for him yet. Give him time. He'll come around. Once he feels that little flutter of life, he'll be in awe of the miracle happening within his body."

Teeth clenched, Sam nodded. 'Give him time.' But they didn't have time. He wrangled a two week reprieve but Dean would never experience that flutter that Ellen spoke of. A carrier didn't feel movement until the second trimester. If they waited that long and Dean still insisted on terminating his pregnancy, the purge would have to be dangerously toxic. It would be hard on Dean's body. And it would be hard to keep it a secret from the authorities.

This was serious business. Dangerous business. If Omega Services even suspected fetal abuse, Dean would be committed to a gestation facility for the duration of the pregnancy. Their baby would be impounded. Placed for adoption with an infertile family. If they were lucky, Dean would be returned. But every heat, each subsequent pregnancy would be monitored. More likely OS would probably try to send Dean to an omega farm, where he'd be bred annually like a damn cow.

"Sam Winchester! You still with me, boy?" Ellen asked sharply, waving her hand in front of his face. Apparently the prospect of fatherhood had the young man day dreaming.

He jumped, nearly spilling the remainder of the cider in his cup. "Sorry. I was just thinking." Sam pulled himself together quickly. "I was thinking about the website."

Ellen let his coverup slide. She had no desire to add to his troubles.

Sam was thinking fast. "Jo should contact other businesses in town. Places where your guests might eat or shop. And any fun activities. She should see if they'd offer discounts. And if they have websites we could link to."

"She could do that. My girl is good with people."

"It would be a plus for everyone. Build business for everyone. Is there a chamber of commerce in town? Or a tourist office? If so, you'll want to contact them."

"You're just full of ideas, aren't you, son?" Ellen smiled fondly at the pensive young man. "Now I've got a suggestion for you. I can see that you are worried about Dean and the baby. I get that. But don't be standoffish and stiff backed. That brother of yours needs loving." She patted his knee. "Remember you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. You think on that some." 

Ellen rose. She brushed a few strands of hair out of Sam"s eyes before patting his cheek. With a smile and a wave of her hand she started back to the office. Sam watched her go in silence.  
When she was nearly out of earshot, he asked the question that had always bothered him about that particular adage. 

"Why would anyone want to catch flies?"

Ellen's laughter floated back to him.


	10. Chapter 10

"Pull the weeds, Dean. Grub around in the dirt, Dean. You're just a worthless omega, Dean. Can't trust you to do the real work." Dean muttered to himself as he worked in the overgrown flowerbed. Jo had spent nearly an hour that morning pointing out to him which were the weeds and which were the flowers. "Pull the weeds." He said in a sing song voice, imitating Jo's cocky attitude. "Not the flowers." He dug out the elongated root of a dandelion. "I don't give a flying fuck if it's a flower. I'm just a stupid omega. What the hell do I know!"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean knew he was being ridiculous. Petty. He was feeling sorry for himself big time. "That's okay." He told himself. If he wanted to throw himself a pity party, he damn well could. He had every right to feel sorry for himself. He had every reason to feel sorry for himself.

Less than a month ago, he'd been a fully functionial Alpha. Happily screwing the pretty little bitches that, oh, so willingly spread their legs for him. He had been a good Alpha. He tried hard to leave his fuck buddies well satisfied. Those were good times. Now- now he was a damn omega. A goddamn pregnant omega.

It was all Sam's fault. When Sam had started to stink up the place, he had ruined all their plans. Sam was supposed to be the omega. Dean yanked on a big clump of quack grass. Using both hands to pull the stubborn weed, he tore it from the ground. He kept pulling as its runners followed, tearing out of the loosened soil. Sam was supposed to be the carrier. Dean remembered how once Dad had boasted that they would breed a fine line of hunters out of Sam.

Shit! Is that what Dad intended his future to be? Dean fought down a quick flare of panic. Sam would never let that happen. And most likely Dad hadn't meant it. Dad had been well into a bottle at that time. They'd been celebrating a successful raid on a werewolf den with a half dozen fellow hunters. They had all been pretty drunk. Dad had bragged that Sam would be the omega of the next generation of hunters. Hunters with a pure, full blooded Winchester pedigree. Dean yanked at another clump of grass, remembering how the other hunters had eyed his little brother. Shit. The poor kid hadn't even been ten years old at the time. Dean remembered how Sam had cowered at his side, scared to death.

Dean remembered it all clearly because that had been the first time he'd tasted tequila. He was barely fourteen. Dad had protested that he was too young. But Caleb had countered that if he was old enough to off a werewolf, he was old enough to drink to their victory. The others had hooted their agreement. Dean had felt so proud as Caleb plopped the filled shot glass on the table in front of him. He was a hunter. He was a man. He would be an Alpha like Dad.

He'd knocked back the liquor just like he'd seen the others do all his life. He had downed it in one gulp. It had exploded on his taste buds. Incinerating his mouth, it had burned a path down his gullet, leaving him breathless. Half way down, his body had rebelled. Without his volition, the shot had reversed course. He had spewed all over the table and himself. The hunters had roared with laughter. Dad had dragged him out of the roadhouse by the scruff of his neck. He had been sick as a dog, retching all the way to the car. Sammy had scurried in their wake, trying desperately to keep up, pleading with Dad to slow down because Dean was sick.

Dad had cuffed him a couple of times across the face, cursing him for embarrassing both of them in front of his friends. "Quit your sniveling!" John had ordered before tossing him into the Impala's back seat. Sam had hurried to join him. Those big puppy dog eyes had been full of tears but they still shot daggers at the back of Dad's head as John put the car in gear and tore out of the parking lot. Sam had been there for him. Sam had held him, rubbed his abused belly and dried his silent tears.

After that John had started a systematic training program, adding another aspect to Dean's education as a hunter. Dean had learned how to drink like a man. Beer had been easy. Whiskey, tequila, vodka, more - he had experienced them all before he was old enough to legally drive a car. By the time he was eighteen, Dean could drink any man under the table. John was proud of that. Dean had been too, or so he thought when he was sober and not hungover.

Sam had been there for him then. And hundreds of times since. Sam was there for him now. That thought was comforting to Dean.

Dean sat back on his heels to evaluate his progress. Apparently a good mad and bitter memories improved the efficiency of his gardening. An untidy heap of weeds lay on the lawn. The flower bed was still an eyesore but he had made definite progress. Jo had yammered on that morning, something about dividing the perennials. Whatever the hell that meant. 

A quick motion, a flash of color caught Dean's hunter's eye. A bold robin was pecking among his pile of weeds, searching for an easy meal. It found a prize, a fat earthworm. Dean watched, a smile growing as the bird reared back, the worm in its beak, tugging, stretching it, pulling with all its might. Sudden success had the worm snapping free. With a flutter of wings the robin was off. 

Dean watched as it flew up to the trellis on the side of the owners' house. His sharp eyes spotted the dried grasses formed into a nest. His ears picked up the chorus of cheeping that greeted the mother bird. There were hungry mouths to feed. Dean's own stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd barely eaten any breakfast that morning. But since neither worms nor weeds appealed to him, he ignored his stomach's complaints.

Mama robin was soon back to take advantage of the buffet his weeding provided. She was quick to find another juicy morsel. And was off again. Dean watched her fly off. To his surprise, however, she didn't fly back to the nest but to the ground beneath it. Soon she returned then was off again winging to the nest with another meal.

Rising to stretch out his back, his knees, Dean watched as the robin ferried back and forth, going repeatedly to the nest but also landing at the same spot on the ground. His curiosity engaged, he decided to investigate. Moving quietly, he drew nearer. Mama bird landed beside a tiny grey and white patch. To Dean's surprise, the patch sported a gaping beak with an accompanying loud chirp. Mama dutifully fed her wayward chick then flew off to search for more food for her brood. 

Dean moved closer to investigate. The chick was more fluff than feathers. It was far too young and undeveloped to be out of the nest. Dean looked up, overhead he could see the nest. The chick must have fallen twelve or so feet to end up here. It was too young to survive without the safety of its nest. Most likely a cat or some other predator would make quick work of it before nightfall. Dean hunkered down to study the little bird more closely. If it didn't end up as something's dinner, it would surely die of exposure. Mama couldn't sit on her brood in the nest and her prodigal chick. It would be more merciful, Dean thought, if he just wrung its neck now. He extended a hand toward the chick. Automatically the oversized beak opened with a series of plaintive chirps.

"I'm not your mama, bird brain." Gently Dean scooped up the little ball of fluff. It was so ugly, it was cute. "How'd you get down here, dude? Did you tumble out of the wrong side of bed this morning?" The robin flew overhead. Dean could hear the shrill cries of the other chicks. "Bet you miss your brothers, huh?"

Dean stepped back to study the nest tucked away in the trellis. It wasn't that high up. Maybe twelve feet, certainly no more than fourteen or fifteen, he estimated. He grasped the trellis with his free hand. Not the sturdiest structure but the greenery growing up it was thick and thorny. He eyed the leather gloves that Jo had said he would need to prune the dead wood from the roses. If he used those, he decided, he could climb up to the nest. The only problem was how would he carry the fragile chick while he climbed.

Dean eyed the pocket of his tee shirt then the scrawny chick. It should fit. Might not be too comfortable but it was the only option he could come up with. "I'm game, little dude, how about you?"

A sharp cheep sounded. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." Dean stretched out his pocket and gently settled the little creature inside. "Remember I'm doing you a favor. No pooping in the pocket." Cheep.

Ellen poured the protein shake into a pair of thermal mugs. The shake was nutritious, delicious and should be easy on a pregnant tummy, just in case Dean's morning lack of appetite was caused by morning sickness.

Ellen knew she should stop pampering those two boys. It was hardly businesslike to fuss over the hired help like she was doing. But something about those two just called out to her maternal instincts. It didn't help that Jo was at that difficult stage where she no longer needed her mother- or so she thought. And here those boys looked absolutely starved for a mother's attention. Her efforts had started simply enough- her mom's eye taking note of how just about every shirt they wore was missing a button or two. Since they had been working - and sweating- themselves to exhaustion each day reshingling her buildings, it had been easy to offer to do a load or two of their laundry. Their reluctance, not wanting to be a bother to her plus their heartfelt appreciation, had been endearing. It didn't take much to stitch a button on or to sew up the hole in a pocket. She was tempted to swap out their threadbare boxers and socks with new but didn't want to risk embarrassing them. She could see the pride in them. No one liked feeling like a charity case. And as Jo was fond of reminding her, it was okay to mother but not to smother. With that thought firmly set in her mind, Ellen plopped her gardening hat on her head, tucked her gloves in one back pocket, her pruners in the other. With mugs in hand, she set out to find Dean.

And find him she did! Clinging to that rickety excuse for a rose trellis, nearly level with the second story of the house. She nearly screamed at him to get down but realized that startling him would only increase the danger. Heart in her throat, she watched as Dean paused in his climb to fumble at his shirt pocket. From the muttered oaths she could hear, he seemed to be having a problem. She saw him bite the fingertips of one glove to extract his hand. Again Dean reached into his shirt pocket. With exaggerated care he pulled something out, cradling it to his chest. Then Dean reached out, extending his arm toward-what was that- a bird's nest! He deposited his handful into the nest to a chorus of loud chirping. Dean hung there, his full mouth stretching into a grin of pure delight as he looked into the nest. The heavy leather gauntlet fell from his mouth. With a plop it landed on the ground.

"Shit!" Dean cursed, belatedly realizing his predicament. He had no choice but to climb down with his right hand bare. It wouldn't be too bad, he told himself. The thorns were mostly small, except for the nearly inch long ones along the main woody branches, which just happened to offer the strongest support. He had no choice. Carefully he began to work his way down, trying to pick his handholds, cursing as the thorns tore into his hand and forearms. 

Five feet from the ground, Dean decided he had had enough. With a glance below, he pushed off. Ellen gasped, swallowing a shriek then sighed with relief as Dean landed lightly among the trampled plants.

"I ought to tan your backside." Ellen hissed. "What kind of jack ass stunt was that!"

"There was a baby bird..." Dean started to explain, having the grace to look sheepish.

"Let me see that hand." Ellen demanded.

"It's nothing. Just scratches." Dean tried to put it out of sight behind his back. 

"Nothing!" Ellen snorted, grabbing his hand. Trickles of blood flowed from each puncture. Ellen pulled out a sizable thorn that had been imbedded in his palm. "Let's get you patched up before your brother sees this and has a fit."

 

Spreading the another dab of neosporan over the scratches on Dean's forearm, Ellen sat back on the kitchen chair to study her patient. Dean was a sorry sight. His right hand was swaddled in white gauze. Angry red gouges covered both forearms. There was a nasty scratch on his left cheek. She wondered if there were more scratches concealed by his clothes but didn't think it advisable to strip the boy to check.

Not sure she could trust his answer, Ellen asked, "Have I missed any?"

"No, ma'am."

"You best not be snowing me." She nodded to herself, satisfied she had done what she could. The wounds were clean and disinfected. And if there was any truth to the supposed recuperative ability of omegas, Dean would heal quickly. "I've done the best I can. You get to explain this to your brother."

Dean pulled a face. He was about to make a smart ass remark when they heard a car pull up outside, horn bleating repeatedly. 

"What the hell!" Both started for the door. In the parking area, Jo was jumping out their truck. Her face was alive with excitement.

"Mom! Mom! Oh my god, you'll never believe it. My timing was perfect! We can do it, can't we? We have to make it happen."

"Do what? Slow down, baby girl. Tell us what happened."

"I went to the tourism office. Just like you told me to. They said they'd just had a call from a family that heard we'd reopened the lodge. They want to book six cabins! All four of the family units plus two singles. They're having a family reunion. They used to come here when they were kids. They have reservations over in West Mount but they'd rather come here if we can accommodate them. We can do it, can't we?We'll be ready, won't we?

"I guess we'll have to be."


	11. Chapter 11

The invasion began mid afternoon. The first minivan rolled up to the office with another following in its exhaust fumes. The doors opened nearly simultaneously discharging from each an adult male, an adult female and three pint sized versions of varying ages and sexes. Chaos ensued. Hugs, kisses, laughter, shrieks of delight were exchanged. Small bodies zipped here, there, everywhere.

Before an sense of order could be established, a full sized SUV pulled in. It contained two men and two more children. Their arrival brought another round of hugs, kisses, and laughter. The children began forming into pairs or foursomes, the olders taking charge of the toddlers and the in betweens.

Just as things seemed to be settling down, a third van rolled in. It discharged the required two adults and three more children. The latest round of delighted greetings were cut short by the arrival of a full sized Cadillac. 

The adults formed up into pairs, calling their respective families to order as the sedan came to a stop. An elderly couple emerged- the mother, father, grandmother, grandfather of the horde of new arrivals. And from the back seat came a heavily pregnant male.

"Omma!" The children cried as they surged forward. Little arms wrapped around the omega's legs, small hands carressed the distended belly. This was the omega of the clan, the carrier of the younger generation. He smiled beatifically at the children, his children. The oldest, a gangly teenaged boy held the youngest, a dimpled curly haired girl, less than a year old.

The D'Angelo family had arrived. All twenty two of them.

 

It was a foreign world unfolding before Sam and Dean's eyes. A world they had only glimpsed previously through the windows of the Impala as they drove from one nameless town to another. A world of which they had never been privileged to be a part.

Children ran. Children laughed. Children played. Children were children. They were indulged by the adults. They were cuddled, sang to, read to, danced with. They were twirled around until everyone was lightheaded and dizzy.

These children were loved. They were enjoyed on levels that neither Winchester had ever experienced or imagined. It was eye opening.

It was heartbreaking. This was the childhood the Winchesters had never had, could never have.

Dean felt a surge of guilt. He had tried so hard to take good care of Sammy-- changing diapers, feeding him his bottles, bouncing him to keep him quiet. From the night their mother had died, Sammy's needs had come first. But Dean had been only a child himself. He had never been able to give his brother the unconditional love and devotion of two parents.

Dean didn't blame their father for their lost childhood. John had coped as best he could. He had been consumed by grief, committed to revenge. Sometimes he had needed a few beers or a pint of something more potent to deaden the pain. The man had lost the love of his life, but he had been taking care of his kids- putting food on the table, a roof over their heads. Dean had never faulted John. Their Dad had done the best he could under the circumstances.

Dean had a vague memory of a day before they left Lawrence. A man and a woman had come to visit the Winchesters. Nosy do-gooders, John had labeled them. John had been mostly sober and not too hung over from the previous night's swell of grief. The couple had come to ask John to turn Dean and Sam over to their care. They were friends of Mary's family. They had said all the right words, made the right promises. It would be in the boys' best interests if they were raised in a proper home. John had listened, had nearly been convinced. Without the boys to hold him back he could pursue his revenge full time. Without his boys to anchor him, he could let his grief drown him.

John had nearly said 'Yes. Take them.' Until he saw the fat tears rolling down Dean's chubby cheeks. "What do you think, Dean? Do you and Sammy want to live with Mr. and Mrs.-- 

Dean couldn't even remember their name. But now for the first time in his life, he thought maybe he had made the wrong decision that day. If he had not cried, if he had been stronger, if he had let Dad give them to the nosy do gooders, would this have been their lives. Would Sam have been happier then. That's what Sam wanted, wasn't it? A normal life. A normal family. With a kid to give everything that they'd never had while growing up.

A kid... Dean laid his hand on his still flat stomach.

 

Sam entered the cabin with a sigh of relief. He had spent the afternoon on lifeguard duty, translate that to mean babysitting, at the lake. The quiet of their cabin was a comfort to his senses.

"Man! Those kids never stop!" He said to Dean's back. "And there are so many of them. They're everywhere."

Dean started guiltily, pulling his hand quickly away and back. Sam caught the abrupt motion and eyed him with concern. 

"You okay? How's your hand?"

"It's fine." Dean answered gruffly. "Nearly healed. Don't fuss over me!" The scratches on his cheek and forearms had disappeared days ago. The deeper punctures on his palm and fingers were closed and soon would fade away. "And don't lecture me that it was a stupid risk to take. Ellen chewed me out good already."

"I haven't said a word." Sam shot back a bit defensively. "I know when it's pointless to argue with you. You are the defender of the defenseless. I can't stop you from risking your neck any more than I change your taste in music.

"You trying to lay a guilt trip on me?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Dean! I've told you how I feel. But I also promised you that the choice is yours. If you are having second thoughts- feeling guilty- you work it through. Decide what you can't live with. Just don't put the blame on me. I won't be your scapegoat in this. You have to choose." That sounded harsh even to Sam"s own ears. Remembering Ellen's advice, Sam went to Dean. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to fight with you, Dean."

"I don't want to fight with you either."

Sam slipped his arms around Dean's shoulders. "How about we table all this for the night. Tonight it's just the two of us. Dean and Sam." He bent down to nuzzle behind Dean's ear. He inhaled the sweet scent of his beloved partner in life. Dean slowly melted in his embrace.

"You always say that we should talk things out." Dean struggled to keep on topic as his blood heated. "That the stuff we don't talk about builds up and bites you in the end."

"Yeah, that's true. But right now, I've got a different end in mind." Sam drew Dean's hips back to press against his hardened staff. Twin moans of arousal sounded. Alpha arousal blended with omega scent to complete the aphrodisiac that was their union.

"I think we need to get rid of all these clothes. These are just getting in the way." He pulled Dean's shirt off over his head. Sam skimmed his fingertips over the smooth chest, teased the peaked nipples.

"Oh yeah!" Dean breathed as Sam undid the closure of his jeans. Sam pushed the denim down, off the slim hips."That's good, Sammy. Naked is good." Dean squirmed in Sam's arms, his hips gyrated against the hard column in Sam's pants. "You got way too many clothes on, Sammy...."

"I can take care of that. Give me a second." Sam took a half step back, shucking his clothes with impatient hands. Bare, he pressed himself against Dean's heat. A growl rose in his throat. 

"Yeah, oh, yeah, that's good. Sammy, so good." Sam's hardness was nestled between his ass checks. The hard length rubbed through his slickness, spreading the natural lubricant, increasing both their arousal. A slight shift of Sam's body, centered his erection. Gripping Dean's hips, Sam pressed forward. Their bodies fit together perfectly. In one smooth motion Sam sank balls deep. 

"Need you, Sammy." Dean crooned. "Want you. Hard. Deep."

"I'm yours, De." Sam purred into his ear as he withdrew. "Only yours." Sam began to thrust, building a rhythm that would leave both men boneless.

 

After five days of frenzied activity, Cedar Lodge was strangely peaceful this morning. Currently Sam was hold up in the office with Ellen and Jo going over another lesson in Website 101. And the D'Angelo family, minus one, were out on a day trip to the amusement park, two counties over. Early that morning, the clan had piled into their vehicles and set off.

Dean eyed the pregnant omega discreetly as he moved from cabin to cabin. He was actually glad it was his turn to do housekeeping. It gave him multiple opportunities to observe the other omega as he reclined in an Adirondack chair, a pillow cushioning his back and his feet propped up. Several family members had offered to stay to keep him company while the others went off to play. But the omega had firmly shooed them all on their way, stating his preference for a few hours of solitude. Reluctantly the family had given in.

Dean was finishing the last cabin when he saw his chance. The gravid omega was struggling to rise from his chair. Reluctant to intrude, not wanting to embarrass the other man, Dean hesitated a moment. In the end, his common sense prevailed.

"Excuse me, sir." Dean stepped forward. "Can I help? I'd be happy to get you anything you need."

The omega sighed in resignation. "Give me a hand up, please. These damn chairs are comfortable but they certainly weren't designed for a pregnant body." Raising his hands in frustration, he continued. "Can't get any leverage. Can't get my feet under me."

"Let me help." Dean extended both arms, to grip the omega's outstretched hands. He pulled, counterbalancing the other's bulk. Slowly, steadily, the omega got to his feet with Dean's aid.

"Thanks. I'm Anthony, by the way."

"Dean. Nice to meet you, Anthony." They shook hands.

"I know that you are busy, but if you wouldn't mind hanging around for a few minutes, I'd really appreciate it. I'll never hear the end of it from my family if I fall or hurt my back trying to get in or out of one of these chairs."

"Sure. No problem." Dean agreed readily. After all it was part of his job to take care of the guests' needs. 

Anthony moved off to the small cabin that was his retreat from the family. He didn't quite waddle under the weight of his pregnancy, Dean noticed. It was more of a rolling gait- hips swaying, feet wide spaced to accommodate the shifting bulk of the baby. Really, once he was on his feet, Anthony moved quite gracefully,Dean thought. With all the D'Angelo children, obviously their omega had had lots of practice in these matters.

Dean waited, trying not to fidget as the minutes ticked away. He was just about to go to the cabin to check if the omega was okay when the screen door opened. Anthony emerged, carrying a tray. Dean's first impulse was to hurry over to relieve him of that burden. But he realized that such coddling would likely be unwelcome. Anthony was a pregnant omega, not an invalid.

"I thought you deserved a reward for rescuing me." Anthony explained with a wide grin. "And it gives me an excuse to indulge despite my doctor's orders. Please, Dean, will you join me?" He deposited the tray on nearby picnic table. "My mother bakes the best chocolate chip cookies." Anthony lowered himself onto the bench seat.

Dean sat down. Milk and cookies. Long ago, his Mom had baked cookies. Dean was pretty sure she had. In the dim expanse of his memories, Dean thought that he remembered his mother baking cookies shaped like little men. That seemed weird. Maybe he was just imagining things. His Mom wasn't a sicko who made cookies that were symbolic canabalism.

"Hey, Dean, you all right?" Anthony asked, wondering why the other man just sat there staring at a plate of cookies.

"Yeah, I'm good." Dean answered, shaking himself out of his memories. "These look great."

"Help yourself. They are best in milk. Only way to eat them." Anthony demonstrated, breaking a cookie in two to dunk half into the glass and then shoving the saturated portion into his mouth. "Good, huh?"

"Yeah, real good." Not as good as cherry pie, Dean thought privately, but delicious in its own right.

Anthony dunked the other half of his cookie. "So, what are your questions?"

"Questions?!" Dean stammered, caught off guard. "I don't have any questions."

"Of course you do." Anthony persisted. "You've been studying me since I got here. I've felt your eyes. I've seen you look away whenever I look."

Dean was embarrassed now, guilty of doing just what the omega had described. Anthony continued unphased. "Well if you,re not ready to ask, I will. Is this your first?"

"My-" Dean paled before his eyes. "How can you tell?"

"Omega secret." Anthony replied smugly, dunking a second cookie. At Dean's wide eyed look of shock, Anthony laughed. "I'm kidding. It's the pheromones. This early, it's pretty subtle. Unlike heat or arousal scents, the carrying scent builds more gradually but lasts throughout the gestation period. Most Alphas aren't even aware of it. They just feel compelled to protect and provide for a carrying omega. I guess it triggers their instinct to perpetuate the species." Anthony shrugged. "You can pretty much get them to agree to anything in your last trimester. They're pretty much intoxicated by the pheromones by time of whelping. But it's best if you don't abuse a good thing. You do have to live with them after its all said and done."

Dean considered what Anthony had said. This was his chance. "You've..." Dean swallowed the bite he was chewing and choked out his thought. "You've had a lot of experience."

"No point trying to deny it." Anthony laughed, rubbing the swell of his abdomen. "This pregnancy makes an even dozen." He stated with pride. "Well, actually, a baker's dozen since this is twins."

Dean's face must have betrayed his shock because Anthony continued. "Surprised the hell out of me, too. But as my om-OB-GYN pointed out, the chance of multiple births increases when an omega is in the second half of his reproductive life. Nature's way of making the most of each breeding opportunity." Anthony finished off another cookie. "I'm nearly thirty. I probably only have another ten, maybe fifteen years, if I'm really lucky, of fertility. My next couple of pregnancies are also likely to be twins. After that the odds of triplets or even quads increases pretty dramatically."

"You want more babies?" The question slipped uncensored from Dean's mouth.

"Not really my place to decide." Anthony answered evenly. "I'm the carrier. My Alphas will decide if I'm to be bred again. And if I catch, which of them will raise the children." Anthony pressed a hand to his belly where Dean could actually see a bump moving beneath his shirt. "Our family has been blessed. We have strong, virile Alphas. I've caught at each breeding. Whelped on average every fifteen months." He reported with satisfaction. "My siblings and their spouses are great parents. And they can afford big families. Why shouldn't I give them more children? This is why I'm an omega. To give my family babies."

Dean sat stunned, silent. He had to wonder if Anthony really believed all that crap or if he had been brainwashed to spout that politically correct propaganda. Dean couldn't wrap his brain around carrying one pregnancy to completion. How could this guy be content to have spent more than half his life popping out pups on a regular basis.

"You don't get it, do you?" Anthony continued sensing Dean's doubts. "It's hard to explain until you experience it for yourself. I was only thirteen when I presented. Mama cried. She thought I was too young. A baby carrying a baby, she said. But there was no denying my heat. My body was ready. My two older brothers had already presented as Alphas- and there was Papa, of course. They took care of me, saw me through that first heat. Ten months later Benjie was born." Anthony smiled wistfully at the memory. 

Dean swallowed, trying to moisten his dry mouth. "Does it, you know, does it hurt?"

"Whelping?" Anthony clarified. "I won't lie to you, kid. The first time especially hurts like a son of a bitch! I don't care what they tell you, how much they train you to focus or pant, when comes right down to it, it hurts. You're scared. Your body is doing all kinds of weird things that you can't control. And the doctors! Don't bother asking for any pain killers. The docs won't give you any because drugs can decrease an omega's fertility. But don't worry, each whelping gets easier. Now it only takes me a few hours. And when you finally see that baby... When it's suckling at your breast... And you see the joy that you brought to your family. You will be more than willing to do it all again." Anthony stroked his belly lovingly. "The indignities. The discomfort. The pain. It's all worth it. You'll see. When you hold that baby."

Dean said nothing, he couldn't look at the other omega. "What's wrong? Does your Alpha plan to sell the pup? I'm told lots of Alphas do. It can bring in good money. You're both young. I suppose it would be an easy way to get a nest egg. Sell a few pups so you can afford a house or start a business. There's no shame in using your body to help your Alpha, Dean."

"No, Sam wants this baby. It's me. I don't know if I can do this."

"Your body says that you can. Trust me. Just take it day by day. Before you know it, your baby will be sucking at your breast. We are fortunate men, Dean. My father, my brothers are successful businessmen. They own a construction company. They build houses and such. Homes for families. It's important work. But Dean, omegas like you and me, we bring life into this world. Isn't that the most important job of all?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like how this chapter turned out. I hope you'll agree. I want to build this AU omega world so it makes sense. When I write, my first draft is in long hand. After I key it in to the Archive format, I save it for several days without posting. I re-read, edit and correct, trying to improve what you eventually read. By the time it is seen by you, it always seems boring and trite to me. Hopefully you don't find it so.


	12. Chapter 12

Ellen studied the car as it approached the Lodge's office. The D'Angelo family caravan had rolled out less than an hour ago. Selfishly she had hoped for a day's respite from guests. Ten days of vacationing family fun wore an innkeeper thin. Ellen shook her head at her own foolishness. Her first paying customers and here she was griping about being busy. What kind of business woman was she? She better not let Jo catch wind of her attitude. Not the proper work ethic to pass on to your child. 

She wasn't expecting any guests. There were no reservations on the book or over the fancy website Sam had set up for them. But business was business. They had vacant rooms. A drop in guest was always welcome. A bit early in the day, just past 10 a.m., for a check-in but there were single cabins that were ready and available. And if a family unit was needed, she could alert Jo to rush one of the recently vacated units. In fact Jo with Sam and Dean's help were hustling to turn those units while Ellen babysat the desk, paid some bills and ran the laundry. Good lord, twenty two people made a mountain of laundry!

A solitary woman emerged from the utilitarian sedan. She looked to be in her mid to late 30's, medium height, conservatively dressed with a stylish, no nonsense short 'do. The woman took a moment to study the Lodge, doing a 360 degree turn before reaching into the passenger side to pull out a briefcase.

Warning lights flashed for Ellen. Government employee- her instincts shouted. An inspector, maybe. Forcing a calming breath, she headed out the door. The best defense was a good offense. She'd heard that somewhere. Maybe, if she was lucky, the woman was likely to offend was just a salesperson working door to door.

"Good morning! Can I help you?" Ellen began pleasantly, stepping out into the sunshine. "If you are looking for a room, we have vacancies."

"Are you the owner?"

"Yes, ma'am. My daughter and I own the place. My name's Ellen Harvelle."

The woman stepped forward. Her free hand slipped with practiced ease into her suit jacket pocket. She pulled out a business card.

"Officer Jody Mills, District 412 Omega Protective Services. There are reports of an unregistered omega in residence here."

"The law doesn't require me to check if my guests are current on their documentation."

"That may be, Ms. Harvelle. However my sources report that the omega in question is in fact employed by you. As you know, an employer is mandated by the Omega Protection Act, Article 9, Subsections D,E and F, to verify the status of any omega employee, to maintain a copy of said omega's registration and to file a copy with Omega Protective Services in a timely manner. Are you in compliance, Ms. Harvelle?"

"Yes, of course. If you'd like to come into the office, I'd be more than happy to show you our records." Ellen offered, stalling. She had no idea what this was all about. But she didn't think it was about forms and files. And she didn't think it would be a welcome visit for Sam and Dean. She had read the stories in the tabloids about omega impounds. Maybe if she could distract this tight assed government bitch with a paper trail, she could text the boys a warning. Maybe they could make a run for it.

"The records can wait, Ms. Harvelle. They aren't going anywhere. I need to speak to the omega in residence now."

"Yes, of course. Let me just text my daughter to come to the office to cover me." Ellen said as she pulled out her cell phone. "Then I'll ..."

"No messages, please, Ms. Harvelle. Take me to the omega now. Please don't make me call the Sheriff to charge you with obstruction of justice."

When, Sam saw the two women approaching the cabins, he had a pretty good idea who the stranger was. He knew how the system worked. He had known this might be coming. They had pushed their luck to long.

"Dean!" Sam grabbed his brother by the upper arms. "Trouble coming. Listen to me. Please. Let me do the talking. Say as little as possible. Answer any direct questions politely. Please play the game."

Dean took one look at the tight assed bitch coming their way and decided he already hated her. Here was a servant of the screwed up system that had fucked him over royally. Dean steeled himself for battle.

Sam recognized the signs- the widening of his stance, the lift of the cropped head, the jaw tightening, the eyes flashing dangerously. He had seen his brother prepare for a fight too many times, he knew what was about to happen.

"Please, Dean, I'm begging you. Play the game" Sam used his trump card. "Don't give her cause to impound you. She can hospitalize you for the duration of the pregnancy for the welfare of the baby."

Before his eyes, Dean wilted. Sam hated to see the fire die in those shining eyes but it was much safer to comply. If they could continue to fly under the radar of the authorities, they would have more freedom. If they challenged the laws head on, disaster was inevitable.

Sam drew Dean into a hug. "Trust me." He whispered to Dean. "We can get through this. Together, we can do it." He planted a kiss on Dean's temple, before turning to take on the approaching threat.

 

"Sam, Dean, this is Officicer Jody Mills, Omega Protective Services. She's here to see you." Ellen made the reluctant introduction. During the time that the pair had been working for her, Ellen had picked up that these boys worked hard to keep their heads down to avoid the attention of the powers that be. Nothing had ever been said outright. The clues were subtle. Ellen had seen enough in this life to put the pieces together. She liked these boys. She trusted them. Whatever their problem, she would stand by them.

.

Sam reached out to shake the stranger's hand. "Sam Wyman." He introduced himself, using the alias that he had used at the pharmacy on his first trip to town. He saw Ellen's eyes widen in surprise but he didn't sense any panic in her. "And this is my omega, my brother, Dean." He kept his arm around Dean's waist, kept him pressed tight to his side.

Jody studied the pair closely. Her first assessment was that the omega was in adequate condition. There seemed to be a bond between the pair despite no obvious sign of a mating mark or collar. The lack was surprising. The omega was a looker, sure to be prized by many Alphas. That might explain why Wyman was keeping him under wraps here at this out of the way tourist trap. But why not just stake his claim?

"Mr. Wyman, according to our records you have been in residence here for at least 4 weeks, yet you have not registered your omega as required by law."

"Yeah, my fault. Sorry about that. I hate all that paperwork and red tape. When we first came here it was only supposed to be for a few nights R & R. Recovery time for Dean. Fun time for me, if you catch my drift. I was waiting for word from our Dad on our next job. We do security work, independent contractors. But we liked it here. It's quiet. Ellen had some odd jobs that needed to be done. I guess the days just got away from me. Didn't realize we'd been here for a whole month."

"That's my fault" Ellen contributed. "At least partially. Sam has given me notice several times that they would be leaving. I've prevailed on his generosity and kind nature to get the Lodge up and running. I never thought I'd be getting them in trouble with the authorities. That was so thoughtless of me. If there are fines to be paid, I take full responsibility."

"Ellen, I can't let you do that." Sam protested. "It's an Alpha's responsibility to register his omega. It's my fault I kept putting it off. I just figured if we were leaving in a day or two, there was no point in doing all that paperwork here. Then I'd have to do it all again when we got to Texas."

"You've heard from your father? You're leaving us?"

"I was planning to tell you at lunch. Tomorrow we head to Corpus Christi."

"And I was hoping to persuade you to stay a few more days." Ellen added teary eyed. "I thought that now that we had some cash flow, I could have Dean work on my truck." She turned to include Officer Mills in their conversation. "The boy may be only an omega but he is a whiz at mechanical things."

"Absolutely not. Auto repair is not an approved activity for an omega. There are far too many hazards." Mills cut in, her patience wearing thin. "Now if we can get back on topic here. Mr. Wyman, you acknowledge that you failed to register your omega?"

Yes, ma'am."

"Your omega has recently experienced a heat cycle."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam replied, before addressing Dean. "It's okay, sweetheart." He soothed. "Don't be embarrassed. Ms. Mills is just doing her job. It's her responsibility to see that you are being taken care of."

"Have you confirmed if your omega is carrying?"

"Yes, ma'am. We are so blessed."

"Your omega appears to be well cared for. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt regarding the failure to register if you omega reports for a medical evaluation at the earliest opportunity."

"Of course, Officer. That will be my first order of business when we get to Texas."

"No, Mr. Wyman. I've scheduled an exam for this morning at 11:40 at the West Mont Clinic. I will personally transport your omega there to ensure the appointment is kept. And supervise the examination. You are free to accompany me if you so choose."

Sam felt the refusal building in Dean's body. "Sweet thing." He crooned, pulling Dean into his arms, cradling his his head to his chest. "I know this is hard for you. I know. It will be all right. No one is going to hurt you. I promise." 

Sam shifted to address the sharp eyed government employee, "I'm sorry, Ms Mills. Everything happened real sudden with Dean's omegatization. Our father didn't do a good job preparing him for the procedure. As you can imagine it was very traumatic for him. Now he breaks down if I even suggest a trip to see a doctor. I was hoping that once we got settled, I could find a nice doctor to work through his fears.

"I can see that this is difficult for your omega. But regulations are regulations. Your omega needs to be examined by a qualified om-obstretrian. Sooner rather than later. Early fetal care is essential. The omega can be examined voluntarily or I can call in the Sheriff to enforce my orders. Your choice, Mr. Wyman. What's it going to be."

There was nothing Sam could do. He could see her thumb poised over the emergency button on her phone. She was experienced. No doubt she had already alerted the local police of a flight risk. They probably wouldn't get ten miles before there were cops on their tails. Maybe they could outrun them. Maybe they could get away. But the odds were against them. Cops loved to nab wayward oms. It's what they based bad porno films on. Sam had a flashback of every raunchy porno film he ever been forced to sit through with Dad and Dean. Naughty omegas were fair game to be shared around the station house before being turned over to the impound hospital. There was nothing more effective than gang rape to break a headstrong omega's spirit. Sam couldn't take the risk. Not with Dean's life on the line. 

"Of course, we will cooperate, Officer Mills. We all want what's best for Dean."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something a little different here. I wanted to explore the action from more than one perspective, take a look at other characters' thoughts and motivation. I hope you find this satisfactory. This chapter pretty much flowed from my pen in one sitting. Felt right but I will admit that it's hard to write first person, present tense, so if I messed up occasionally, forgive me.

Dean's Point of View:

Sitting here is all too familiar. I don't want to be here. And I sure don't want to keep this fucking appointment! This is a deja vu nightmare. My personal version of hell. Just when I'm beginning to get my bearings, this is back to bite me in the ass. This is a fucking nightmare. But it's all too real. And I know it's real because it is Sam sitting next to me, not Dad. My sweet sensitive Sammy is holding my hand with a death grip that might be painful if it wasn't the only thing anchoring me to sanity right now. 

And the government bitch is sitting across this small grim waiting room. She's keeping an eagle eye on us in case I bolt. Except now she doesn't look like the iron gestapo maiden. God is that a smile she sends my way? A trace of sympathy, maybe regret in her eyes. Nah, can't be. Must be my nerves playing tricks on me. 

God I don't want to do this! It's taking every ounce of strength I have to keep my mouth shut. I so want to turn to Sammy and beg him to get me out of here. Take me away. Take me anywhere but here. Don't make me do this! Don't make me strip naked for some bastard to paw in the name of a medical check up. I can't do this.

 

Jody's Point of View:

Shit! Look at him sitting there, like he's waiting for his execution! Damn it! Why am I the bad guy? I'm just doing my job here. It's called Protective Services for good reasons. Omegas are vulnerable, defenseless creatures. And some Alphas are assholes. Assholes with dicks. And fists, belts, and chains.

The things I've seen would give most folks nightmares. Oms so black and blue you can't guess at their natural skin tone. Oms half starved because they only get the scraps their families leave behind. Oms kept in cages. Oms chained to the bed, the floor, out in a barn with the other livestock. Oms I couldn't protect. Oms I was too late to save. 

My worst case, among my first cases, still haunts me. I came on the job, fresh out of college. I'll admit it. I was naive, idealistic. Overwhelmed. My first day on the job, my supervisor handed me a full caseload. Sixty-eight omegas that I had the responsibility for their health and wellbeing. No way could I visit each household every month. Just getting up to date on the paperwork had me working late day after day. Prioritize, my supervisor advised. You'll burn out, my coworkers cautioned. I can make a difference, I told myself.

The family were good, God fearing, church going people. Everyone liked them, respected them. No need to be concerned about them, I was told. But when their omega missed three fetal checks in a row, the file landed on my desk with a red flag.

I'll never forget what I found at that house. The patriarch, the dominant Alpha greeted me at the door. Come in. Have a cup of... A warm welcome. No reason for concern until I asked to see their om. Then the faces went still. The eyes evaded mine. And the lies popped out. The omega was out for a walk, resting, sleeping, couldn't be disturbed. They talked over each other, contradicted each other. The father and his six Alpha sons. They hadn't even bothered to make up a cover story. I guess they were that confident that no one would ever question them. They stonewalled me. I had to call in the Sheriff, convince him that I was serious about seeing this omega now, today. When they finally broke in the bedroom door, it was too late. The Alphas had gotten tired of the om's cumbersome condition, its lack of enthusiasm. They'd strapped it onto a breeding bench with its big belly sagging almost to the floor.

The postmortem estimated that the omega had been restrained for more than two months. Long enough for limbs to atrophy, vertebrae to dislocate. The fetus had died in uterine. Sepsis had set in. There was nothing the doctors could do. Euthanasia was the merciful choice. I know that. Logically I know that. But that doesn't end my regret or my guilt. 

And the shitty worst of it all is that those bastard Alphas got off on probation. First offense. Upstanding citizens. Sentenced to community service and a ten year ban on omega ownership. They'll be looking for new omegas soon. Too damn soon.

 

Dean's Point of View:

The nurse calls a name. Sam is standing up. Oh shit! It's the alias that Sam used. He pulls me to my feet, turns me to follow the the beta. I can't move. I can't feel my feet. I'm walking, I guess. The hallway telescopes into a tunnel, the walls constricting. I want to go back. Go anywhere. Be anywhere but here. Sam's arms close around me. He tries to steady me. I can't stop shaking. I want to beg Sam to take me away from here. I want to beg. Please don't make me do this. I want to scream. Make this stop. I can't breathe. Blackness is closing in...

 

Sam's Point of View:

Suddenly Dean is limp in my arms. I lift him automatically, arms beneath his shoulders and knees, supporting his dead weight. His head falls back, hangs over the crook of my elbow. His face is slack, ghost white, the multitude of freckles stand out like rust stains on a motel room sink. What the fuck? He's fainted. My fearless big brother, who has faced down monsters that would make most men shit their pants, is unconscious in my arms. And I don't know what to do. What the fuck can I do?!

I turn to Officer Mills. Dean's collapse has caught her off guard as well. I can see the shock on her face. Her concern.

"Please'" I beg. "Let me take him back to the Lodge. This can't be good for Dean or the baby."

Her eyes waver then harden. "Don't be foolish. If he's ill, this is the best place for him. Nurse! We need the doctor immediately. Which room?"

The nurse directs us into an empty room. Then hurries off to summon the doctor. There's nothing in this room but a stainless steel exam table, complete with stirrups and a gooseneck lamp. And if that's not intimidating enough, there's some medical machinery against the wall. It all is damn scary to me.

Mills is urging me, telling me to put Dean down on that cold hard surface. No way! Jaw clenched to keep from screaming at her, I turn away, cradling Dean. As long as he's in my arms, I can feel his chest rise and fall, feel his living warmth. And with my arms full, I can't give in to the temptation to punch her out.

The doctor enters at a trot. He's a big Alpha, broad in the chest, dark as midnight. With a single look he sizes up the situation. He starts barking orders. You can tell that he's accustomed to being obeyed. The nurse spreads a couple of blankets over the bare metal table. Reluctantly I lay Dean down.

The doctor moves quickly, efficiently to assess Dean's condition. He checks his pulse, his breathing. He lifts an eyelid to shine a light over his pupil. Dean stirs, jerks beneath his hands.

"Keep still." The doctor orders. Dean freezes at the unfamiliar voice, the harsh tone. 

"It's all right." I step nearer, put my hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm right here. I'm never going to leave you." At my touch, some of the tension leaves his body, but he's still unnaturally pale.

The doctor is issuing orders again. He wants the nurse and an orderly to strip Dean so he can do a complete examination.

"No!" My refusal is instinctive. I have to do what I can to protect Dean. Make this easier on him. Think. Think fast. "I'll do it." I insist. I have to put this in terms that these people will accept. "I'm not having my omega manhandled."

The doctor harrumphs. I suppose he is a busy man. He seems impatient with my objection. But he glances down at Dean and shrugs. 

"You've got five minutes." He makes for the door. "Ms. Mills with me please."

She starts to protest but he's having none of it. She has no choice but to follow.

 

Doctor Hendriksen's Point of View:

I'm on her the moment the door closes. "What's happening in there? What's their story?"

Mills can only shrug. "You know about as much as I do. Newly converted omega. Not an easy transition according to his Alpha. Only a couple weeks carrying. Om seems overwhelmed, scared senseless. My guess would be a traumatic experience at the previous omega clinic." She sighs deeply. "You're new at this. Some doctors get callous, just go through the motions when it comes to patient care. Some get cruel, sadistic. Omegas are easy victims. Getting your balls chopped off goes a long way to making you vulnerable."

I don't like what she's saying but I can't deny it. I've seen it. I didn't invent this system but I'm part of it. I can tell myself I'm just working off my med school loans but during my five year contract, how many young men will I castrate? Right now, I have to force myself to do it. It's a simple, quick surgery. I try to be sensitive to the omega's feelings but I've got a job to do. Will there come a day when I don't care? Will there be a day when I look forward to slicing off a kid's balls? I pray to God, not.

I don't want to think about that possibility. Right now my job is to keep the omegas in my care healthy and whelping. Mills and I are working to the same goal. We are allies, not enemies. If this om is sick, if there's a problem with the pregnancy, the earlier it is diagnosed, the more options there will be for treatment.

I give a quick rap on the exam room door to announce my re-entry. Mills slips in on my heels. The omega is stripped. It sits, eyes downcast, on the edge of the exam table clutching with white knuckled hands, a blanket around its body. I shrug. I suppose the room is a bit chilly. I'm not going to make a issue of the blanket.

"Introductions were overlooked earlier. Let's start over." I extend my hand. "I'm Doctor Victor Hendriksen."

"Sam. Sam Wyman." The gangly Alpha reaches to shake my hand. He's just a kid himself, long hair flopping in his face. He keeps a protective arm draped around the pretty, smaller omega. The om is still pale. If I don't work this right it may pass out on me again.

"This is my brother, Dean." 

Ah, a sibling bond as well as a mating bond can complicate the sexual aspect of the new relationship. I make a quick scan of the questionnaire that's part of the omega's chart. First heat completed about five weeks ago. Pregnancy would be in the early stage. Lots of changes happening in the om's body. That could easily explain the fainting. 

"I see that your omega did not present spontaneously but was surgically altered."

"Yeah..." The kid is obviously uncomfortable talking about this. He glances at his brother. "Dean was an Alpha. We always thought I would be the family omega. But when I presented as an Alpha, our father thought Dean should go to the omega clinic. He wasn't ready for the procedure. He never had a chance to think about it, to decide."

"Making big changes in your life are never easy. Having more time to think doesn't always change that. There are times that the only thing that can be done is to move forward. That's how it is for you and your brother. You can't go back. You have to move on." I've said my piece. Counseling isn't in my job description. 

"Let's begin with the basics." The omega cringes as I approach. I can't help but feel I'm kicking a puppy. The Alpha soothes but holds firm. Good. That a healthy sign in an Alpha/omega dynamic.

"Dean, it's okay. Let the doctor examine you."

The om is trembling slightly but complies. I slip on a pair of latex gloves before I press my stethoscope to its chest, its back. "Lungs are clear. Heart sounds strong." I check the eyes, the ears, the throat. All look good. Bit by bit the tremors are easing. "Blood pressure is slightly elevated. That can most likely be attributed to stress." I feel down the column of the neck to the muscular shoulders. "There is no mating mark. No signs of this om being collared."

"I, uh, I didn't think I should do that without talking to our father. And, uh, I didn't think Dean was ready for a big commitment."

"Your consideration is well intentioned. But you've left this omega in an emotional limbo. Omegas need the security of a mating bond. It anchors them."

"Dean knows I'll always be there for him."

"Knowing it intellectually and feeling it viscerally can be very different things. You should think on that." I draw a blood sample. And move on with the examination. The om seems to be at a healthy weight. On the flesh I can see, there are no signs of bruises, ligature marks or lacerations. Overall it appears to be in good health. It's time to move on to the more delicate part of this exam.

"Lie back." I order calmly. The om casts a panicked look to its Alpha. At his nod, it complies. I fold back the blanket to uncover the chest. It's too early for much mammary development but the nipples are puffy and dusky in color. As I begin to palpitate the glands, the omega hisses in discomfort. "Some tenderness?" The omega gives a small nod of confirmation, biting it's lower lip as I move on to the other breast. "The nipples are nicely responsive. The gestation hormones are taking effect. However the pectoral muscles are too well developed to facilitate breastfeeding. Typically pups have difficulty latching on to a flat, firm breast."

The omega blushes prettily but stays quiet beneath my hands. I move on to the abdomen. I check the belly for any tenderness or unexpected masses. It's rare but omegatization has been known to cause liver or kidney inflammation. And of course there's always the possibility that an over enthusiastic Alpha could cause internal injuries during a mating.

"The belly is clear. The uterus is good sized, fully developed." I use my fingertips to isolate the pear shaped organ, pressing down gently on the surrounding flesh. "And well situated." The Alpha is watching avidly, I notice but the omega lies there unmoving beneath his Alpha's soothing touch and my exploring hands.

"Scoot down to the edge of the table. Feet in the stirrups."

Dean's Point of View:

The order circles inside my head. I should fight. Flee. I don't want to be here. Do this. But Sam is with me, bending low to whisper reassurance in my ear. He kisses my forehead, tells me how proud he is of me, how good I am behaving. I want to be good for my Sammy. Sam is the only thing that matters in my life. 

Gentle hands urge my body into position. Sammy murmurs encouragement, approval. There is no reason to fear, to resist. All is well. Love surrounds me. Sammy is with me. Sammy is my world. Pleasing Sammy is all that matters. 

I am floating. Hands touch me. They are not cruel. They do not bring pain. All is well. Sammy is with me. Sammy loves me. Sammy protects me. Sammy. Be good for Sammy. Make Sammy proud. 

 

Doctor Hendriksen's Point of View:

To my surprise, the omega moves willingly into position. I guide its feet into the stirrups. All tension seems to have left its body. The eyes are unfocused. Breathing shallow but steady. I think this may be what our psych prof described as 'subspace.' If so, that's a good sign. This omega is developing strong coping skills. And it's trust of its Alpha is absolute.

Excellent. I must note this in my report. But more importantly, this state will allow me to complete the exam without further trauma to the omega.

I move slowly, keep my voice low, nearly monotone. It's important not to abruptly pull the om from this headspace. Gently I move the limp penis out of the way. The incision is a faint line, well healed. I can see no obvious rectal tears. I lube the fingers of my right hand. My left hand rests on the om's inner thigh so that I can assess the tension in the body.

"Deep breath. Relax. Breathe. A little pressure now." I ease one finger past the sphincter. I run it around the inner rim of the channel. "Very good." I say quietly, praising the omega's cooperation as well as its condition. "No fissures. The channel is tight and sensitive." I introduce a second digit, moving deeper. "Deep breaths" I encourage. "If I can penetrate the channel digitally, it won't be necessary to open it with a speculum."

The om's breathing is a bit ragged. The Alpha is stroking its head, whispering nonsense in its ear. Whatever works is what matters. I feel the pale thighs spread further. I probe deeper. I run my fingers over the all important omega gland. The om gives a small gasp of pleasure, the limp penis twitches reflexively. 

"Very good. Responsive. No evidence of swelling or inflammation. Just a bit deeper now. Almost there. Yes. That's it." It's hard to keep my voice controlled. I can't help but feel it is an achievement to reach this point." The cervix is firm and closed. Excellent." I withdraw from the tight passage. "Everything is looking good, Mr. Wyman." I pat the omega gently on its flank. "We're nearly done. Just one more test." I coat the ultrasound wand with a generous layer of lubricant. 

"What's that for?" The Alpha asks suspiciously. I glance quickly at the omega. It is still lost in its own subspace, distant from the reality of this examination.

"This is an internal ultrasound wand. It is necessary to assess fetal development." I explain calmly as I ease the tool into the tight channel. The om never flinches. I work the wand deeper until the tip is snugged up to the closed cervix. The screen shows a blurred, grainy black and white image. Carefully I rotate the probe. The image wavers, changes.

"There. That's the pup, Mr. Wyman. Not much to look at at this stage. It's only about the size of a peanut now." I point out some details on the screen. "These dark spots are the eyes. That flickering is the heartbeat. And here are the limb buds." The Alpha is standing, open mouthed, eyes moist, studying the screen intently. "It may look more like a tadpole now but I assure you everything looks normal. The fetus is in the sixth to seventh week of development...."

"But Dean's heat ended only five weeks ago." Sam protests.

"We've always suspected that omega fertility is greatest at the onset of a heat. The latest research shows that more than 78% of omegas catch in the first 24 hours of their heat. The percentage goes up to 93% by hour 36. The additional stimulation in the latter days probably serves to increase hormone production, particularly in the surgically altered oms."

 

Sam's Point of View:

I'm trying to process what the doctor has said. Is he saying what I think he's saying? I want to ask him if I've got it right. For the first 72 hours of his heat, I was Dean's only Alpha. Does that mean that I am the most likely father of Dean's baby? I think it does. I'd ask but I don't want to embarrass Dean. I doubt that he wants it in his medical file that he was fucked by more than a dozen Alphas in his first heat. The double standard still exists. Promiscuity is applauded among Alphas, condemned among omegas. 

The doctor pushes some buttons. The machine rumbles, spits out paper, three pages. He clips the first onto the chart he holds with Dean's name on it. The second he passes to Officer Mills. "A copy for your files." He holds the last page out to me."One for the baby book if you're planning to keep the pup. Or your auction posting, if you are selling it."

I take it, too overwhelmed for words. This is a picture of Dean's baby. Our baby. And if I understand the doctor correctly- my baby. 

I wanted this child before it was conceived. It didn't matter to me if another Alpha happened to be the sperm donor. It was enough that it was Dean's baby. I love this child. I study grainy print out. This is our baby.

"Mr. Wyman. Are you listening to me?" Hendriksen asks with bemused impatience.

"Sorry." I gesture lamely, running a hand through my hair, trying to put it all together. "This is a lot to process."

"And you are young to be a dominant Alpha. But there are serious issues to be considered. It's important that your omega continue the fetal vitamins. And I recommend increasing the protein in its diet by 20%. A developing fetus needs a lot of calories."

"If the pectoral muscles don't atrophy natural, there are surgical options to soften the breast tissue. We won't need to address this until the second trimester. But it is important that you allow sufficient time for healing before the whelping. Lactation...."

He keeps talking at me, lecturing me. I guess I've reached saturation point. I hear what he's saying but it doesn't really register. Dean is laying there, naked and vulnerable. All I want to do is sweep him into my arms and take him out of here. I want to go somewhere, anywhere that is quiet and private. We need to talk. I want to talk with Dean about the baby.

Does Dean know that the baby is most likely mine? Does Dean care that the baby is mine? He never wanted to be a carrier. He never wanted a baby, any baby. There's a sick feeling in my gut. The probability that this child is mine isn't likely to change his mind. And I had promised him that the choice would be his. And that I would not try to dissuade him from his choice. If I say anything it will only increase his pain.

The doctor is still talking. I try to focus on what he's saying to distract me from my thoughts. 

"...to avoid an episiotomy. Frequent knotting helps to keep the channel open and stretched. But often that's not sufficient for a first time carrier. Many Alphas prefer to use graduated plugs or mechanical spreaders to preparing for whelping. That usually reduces the length of labor and the chance of tearing."

I stammer something inarticulate.

Hendrickson rises, claps me on the shoulder in a good natured Alpha to Alpha way. "All this is months in the future. You don't have to make any decisions now. Right now you need to rouse your om. Get it dressed. I'd like to tell you to take your time and be gentle. It's in a deep subspace. However I have to point out we have a full slate of appointments today. We need this room. When you're ready to leave my nurse will have a packet of information for you."

 

Jody's Point of View:

Check one item off my to-do list for the day. Unregistered omega has been documented, medically checked, certified healthy and carrying. A victory for Protective Services. I can actually feel good about my job today. At least temporarily. If I forget about the report I need to write up, the forms I need to fill out and file. Gee, the fun never ends for me!

"Mr. Wyman, do you still intend to depart for Texas tomorrow?"

"Yes, Officer. As I explained earlier, our Dad has a job waiting for us down there."

"Well, stop by my office before you leave. I'll have a copy of the omega's records that you can take with you. And a referral to the Texas OPS. Its next check up should be in four weeks. Monthly exams are required for first time carriers. If there are any complications, it's best to catch them early. When you are ready, I'll transport you back to Ms. Harvelle's. I still have to verify her records. I'll be outside, please be brief.

 

Sam's Point of View: 

Out. Out! Everyone out! Just leave us alone. Damn it. Let me take care of Dean.

Finally, they leave us alone. I go to Dean, wrap the blanket around him as best I can. His breathing is slow and even, his gaze is still unfocused. Shit I've never seen him like this. It's like some kind of trance. I've never seen anyone like this except maybe that medium Bobby knew. And I still think most of her act was theatrics.

Damnit! Focus. Dean needs you. I can almost hear him say it. 'Pull up your big boy panties, Sammy and get on with it! We've got a job to do.'

A sigh catches in my throat. I miss my old Dean. The one who took care of me, protected me. Shit! Being an Alpha is lot of responsibility. I'm scared. What if I fuck this up? Just like I fuck everything up....

'Stop sniveling.' I can hear Dad shouting in my head. 'Concentrate. Use the brains you were born with. Work it out.'

Gently I gather Dean into my arms. I lift him from that damn table. Lacking any other options, I sink to the floor cradling him to my chest. Instinctively he shifts, burying his face in the hollow between my neck and shoulder. I feel his chest expand. His breathing deepens. Is he scenting me? Of course he is. Primal needs. Use that. Concentrate. Calm, keep calm. Focus on the good. Focus on us. We're together. We're safe.

I can't smell myself. Dean's scent is light, neither aroused nor panicked. Dean shifts slightly against me. His eyes are closed now, a slight smile graces his lips. I lower my head to place a soft kiss on that luscious mouth, trail up the square jaw. 

It's stupid, I realize but I suddenly realize that I miss the stubble of his beard. I can remember as a kid watching Dean, me perched on the toilet of whatever no name rat trap we were hold up in. Dean is making a show of spreading the lather. He used a safety razor to scrap off the foam and his peach fuzz. Truth is Dean never had much of a beard, hardly any five o'clock shadow. He could go a couple days between shaves easily.

A small frown has gathered between Dean's brows. Shit, this isn't the time for trips down memory lane. Stay focused. Take care of Dean. I run my knuckles along his jaw, down his neck, over the subcutaneous mating gland. Dean arches into my touch.

"De, hey, big bro, time to wake up." I say quietly. I repeat myself over and over again. Slowly he rises from wherever it is that he has gone. Those beautiful eyes that I love open at last. He focuses on my face. Weak with relief I kiss him again, harder this time, hugging him tight.

"Welcome back."

 

Dean's Point of View:

My sweet Sasquatch is crushing my ribs. Too bad. I don't care. I'm in my Sammy's arms. Exactly where I'm supposed to be. I inhale a big lungful of Sammy scent. All is right with my world.

Sam eases back. He's talking at me. I try to listen. Really I do. But there seems to be a disconnect between my brain and my body.

The door opens without warning. The nurse pokes her head in. "Mr. Wyman. We need this room." Impatience laces her voice. "Appointments are backing up."

"We'll be out in a few minutes." Sam answers quickly. "He's just coming around."

"Five minutes." She concedes, not pleased, and closes the door.

Sam is talking to me again. "We can leave as soon as you are ready. Let's get you dressed..

I can see that steel table looming over Sam's shoulder. Getting out of here sounds good. Having clothes on sounds better.

I struggle to rise. Sam steadies me. He passes me the pile of my clothing. When he tries to help, I bat his hand aside. I'm not a child. I can do this myself. Sam pulls out his cell phone, intending to call Ellen to tell her where the files he faked are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. I hope I conveyed Dean's submissive headspace adequately. It's hard to describe something beyond your experience. My research on S/M websites showed that describing sub space is difficult even there.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to move on....or maybe not.

Sam nuzzled the back of Dean's neck, trailing kisses down the strong column to the muscled shoulder. He laved the hidden gland. Dean gave a murmur of contentment, arching into the contact. Sam tightened his grip. His left arm was curved over his brother's side, his hand splayed over the firm chest. Sam smiled to himself. He liked hard pecs. More than a mouthful was wasted. And he liked how sensitive Dean's nipples were. A simple touch, a brush of fingertips over the tight buds could incite passion.

It was moments like this that Sam appreciated the benefits of an Alpha/ omega mating- when they were locked together in the afterglow- sated and satisfied. Moments when they could talk of dreams and fears and wishes. Of what was to come... Sam felt the grip on his knot ease just a bit. Like all valued things, these moments were brief, fleeting and to be cherished.

"We'll need to get moving soon." Sam said with regret.

He could hear the satisfied smirk in Dean's voice as he spoke. "You were moving just fine a few minutes ago. Too soon for round two, Sammy?"

"Brat!" Sam chastised with a gasp as Dean deliberately tightened on his waning shaft. He was, they both were especially sensitive at this stage.

Dean chuckled with evil glee.

"Behave yourself." Sam gripped his hips to keep him still. "You know what I mean."

Dean sobered. "Yeah, yeah I do. I hate saying goodbye to people who matter." He didn't seem to notice the sudden tension in Sam's body as every neuron fired. His brain telling his body to move, to protect the baby growing in Dean's body.

With a jerk, Sam pulled free.

"Hey, watch it." Dean protested the abrupt uncoupling. "Take it easy on the fun parts!"

"Sorry," Sam kissed his shoulder in confused contrition. The sudden move had been painful for him as well. "Cramp." He lied half heartedly. "Got to move."

Sam was up, out of their shared bed before Dean could protest further. As fast as that he was into the bathroom with the door closed. Maybe Dean should have been suspicious. He might have pursued his brother for some mischievous revenge, if he hadn't had his own agenda. Last night when he had left the bath, he been exhausted by the day's drama. All he wanted was a good night's sleep in Sam's arms. But as he came into the room, he had startled Sam, surprised him into hiding something in the nightstand's drawer. Dean hadn't seen what Sam stashed. But the quick slide of the drawer closing had engaged his hunter's curiosity.

Dean sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. His body protested the sudden movement. His hole was tender, head a bit woozy, and his stomach jittery. Dean frowned. It wasn't like Sam to hurt him. Sam didn't like to hurt anyone but he was especially gentle in his lovemaking. Add concern to his curiosity. 

Dean pulled open the small drawer in the bedside table. Nothing inside but the to be expected Gideon Bible. That was odd. Mr. Brainiac could recite the Bible, literally chapter and verse from memory. In fact he could do it in several languages including the original Hebrew, Aramaic or Ancient Greek. So why would Sam be reading the Bible? And why did he feel guilty enough to hide the fact that he was. It didn't make much sense to Dean. He had expected to find a skin mag or a racy book that he could tease his Alpha about. Or maybe something to inspire a future sexcapade. Sam was young and still shy about asking for what he wanted in bed.

Certain that he was missing something, Dean lifted out the small volume. Yup, there it was. A folded sheet of paper tucked underneath. He retrieved it and unfolded the page. It was a picture of some sort. Not a good one. A printout actually- just black and white. Black edges, around a white wedge with a fuzzy blob in the center. Nothing much to look at. Nothing much to feel guilty about. Then he read the caption in the upper right corner: 'omega: Wyman, gestation: 6 weeks.' 

Shit! Holy shit! His brain whited out. His stomach lurched. Raw basic instinct had him on his feet, flinging open the bathroom door and dropping to his knees beside the toilet. He barely managed to raise the lid before his stomach revolted, ejecting its contents in heave after heave. 

The bathroom door crashed open without warning. Sam's head snapped up. Survival skills kicked in. He had been indulging in a solitary cry, blubbering under the cover of the running water. Obsessing over what was, what was to come and what would never be. 

Now he was braced for attack. Dean! Where was Dean? Had something found then and taken out Dean while he wallowed in self pity. He snapped off the shower control and flung aside the curtain in time to see Dean fall to his knees , raise the toilet seat and barf in one fluid motion.

Flinging dripping hair out of his eyes, Sam was at Dean's side in the next instance. One arm went to support his shoulders. The other hand rubbed the small of his back. Sam wished there was more he could do as Dean groaned through a series of gut wrenching heaves.

"How can I help?"

"Shoot me." Dean mumbled pathetically as he eased back to sit on his haunches. "Put me out of my misery."

"I was thinking we try something less drastic." Sam settled himself against the tiled wall and pulled Dean to lean against his strength.

"Hey, you're soaking wet, dude." Dean managed a weak protest.

"You crashed my shower. What did you expect?"

"Wasn't thinking of cuddle time." Dean managed, swallowing hard. "Just needed to puke." It wasn't going to stay down. His stomach did a somersault as Dean swung back toward the porcelain bowl. He brought up some awful tasting bile but his stomach seemed to be running on empty now. Dean slumped, weak in the aftermath. He moaned, falling back into the comfort, damp as it was, of Sam's arms.

There wasn't much Sam could do but hold him, stroke his hair or his back, kiss his cheek or his temple. After a bit of that, he managed to snag a towel from the nearby rack. He didn't care if he was wet but his mop of hair was dripping on Dean. He soaked up what moisture he could one handed, putting a priority on not jostling Dean any more than he could avoid.

They stayed like that for the better part of an hour, according to Sam's time sense. Dean seemed to have retreated inside his head again. Sam wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Maybe it was just an omega thing. A tolerant long suffering nature was reported to be an omega trait. Some called it a virtue. From the amount of abuse he'd seen, Sam considered it a curse. His De would not suffer, Sam vowed silently, as they waited out this first bout of morning sickness.

"Come on," Sam, at last, urged gently. "Let's get you up and settled back in bed."

"I'm good here."

"You're freezing. Here.." Sam grabbed the bath towels. He wrapped one around Dean's shoulders, the others around his hips and legs, tucking them under as best he could to pad him from the cold tile floor. "I'll be right back." Sam disappeared into their room. He was back in a flash, offering Dean, of all things, a peppermint candy.

Dean turned his nose up and sneered. "No thanks. Stomach's on lockdown. No food allowed."

"De, you'll have to eat. Eventually. Try it. It will help settle your stomach. I promise."

Dean took the small candy, eyeing it like it was witch's brew. His belly ached from the abuse. His mouth was foul. And his throat was raw, burned by the gastric acids. It was an effort to tear open the plastic wrapping. Sammy said this would help, Dean encouraged himself as he slipped the mint between parched lips. And Sammy knew everything.

"Don't chew it. Let it melt in your mouth." Sam advised as he made quick work of drying himself with a hand towel. He combed his hair and brushed his teeth. All the while he kept a close eye on Dean huddled in misery on the floor in front of the toilet. Some color was coming back to his cheeks. He looked better, a little bit anyway. Not pasty white now with green around the edges. With his head back, resting against the wall, eyes closed, he looked almost peaceful. Sam squatted down to Dean's level.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better I think. Sammy to the rescue again." Dean opened his eyes. It struck Sam hard in the gut that they were clear green and oh so beautiful, with the long lashes matted into clumps like the rays of a star. "I'm just afraid to move and bring on another bout of barfing."

"You're probably good now. Peppermint been used for ages to combat nausea. It's surprisingly effective. And the sugar's giving you a little energy boost." Sam maneuvered carefully, scooping a limp Dean into his arms. "Let's get you warmed up." He carried Dean to their abandoned bed, tucked the covers up to his chin, and kissed him on the forehead before straightening.

When he been in here earlier, he'd been intent on retrieving the mint from his secret omega supply stash hidden in his duffle. Now he saw the open drawer, the Bible resting on the table top. A quick scan found the unfolded page discarded on the floor. Saying nothing, not looking at Dean, Sam replaced the book and closed the drawer. He snatched up the printout, balled it up and flung it into the trash. Silent, he began to dress.

Dean watched from the snug cocoon of their bed. His brother was hurting. He could see that . And he was the cause of his pain. "Sammy, talk to me."

Sam had progressed as far as boxers and a tee shirt. His back to Dean, he announced, "I should text Ellen. Let her know that you're not up to that big farewell breakfast that I'm sure she and Jo are cooking."

"Sammy. Talk to me."

Jaw working to contain his emotions, Sam conceded. "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry. I should have thrown that away. Souvenirs shouldn't litter up s hunter's life. He can't afford to be sentimental. We both know that." Sam yanked on his jeans. 

"But you kept it. It's important to you."

"Drop it, Dean. It's just a piece paper." Sam shoved his feet into a pair of ratty sneakers. 

"We both know it's more than that."

"It won't be in a day or two." Sam turned and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to avoid the cliches of fan fiction pregnancy- morning sickness and frequent urination. Then I spent Thanksgiving visiting with family and friends. Our family has two new additions this year. Eventually the conversation devolved into one upwomanship of morning sickness and delivery stories. This chapter just had to come out. Sorry for the pun.


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh, please!" Jo wheedled. "You don't have to go. You can stay here. There's still work to be done. There's will always," She rolled her big blue eyes dramatically, "Be work to do."

"Jo." Sam began sadly as he stowed their duffle bags in the Impala's trunk, "We have to move on."

"But what happens if the website crashes? Or a sink plugs up? Who's going to help with the housekeeping? We need you guys. We have reservations next week."

"Jo." Ellen dropped an arm across her daughter's shoulders. "We can handle any problem that comes up. It's time these boys got on with their lives. They've got places to go. And people to be."

"But I don't want to say goodbye." Jo protested, tearing up.

"Neither do we, honey." Sam hugged her tight before turning to her mother. "Thank you for- everything." The words weren't coming easily. There was much he wanted to say. "Being here... With you..."

"Enough of that!" Ellen broke in. "You keep on you're gonna make me cry." Her mouth tightened to hold back her tears. "You boys will always be welcome here. I expect to see you again one day, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Dean replied stiffly, stepping away before any hugs could trap him. His control was too shaky to risk. Dean moved quickly to open the driver's door.

"You have our contact information." Sam reminded her, hoping to cover for Dean"s standoffishness. "It won't help with a stopped up sink or the housekeeping but you can certainly call or email if there's a website glitch."

"Or if we just want to say hi?" Jo added with a pout.

"Or to say hi." Sam confirmed, chucking her under the chin. Bobby had a saying, 'Family went beyond blood.' There were few people in Sam and Dean's lives that held that level of importance. Bobby, of course, was one. Now Ellen and Jo were family too.

They stood in awkward silence, all knowing that they had to part but no one wanting to initiate the break.

"Well, daylight is wasting." Ellen said at last. It was a mother's duty to push the fledglings from the safety of the nest. "You best be putting some miles behind you. Jo, grab that cooler off the back porch. We packed some sandwiches and healthy snacks. You boys need to remember that you can't live on beef jerky and nacho chips."

"No, ma'am," Dean contributed trying for a lightness none of them felt, "you need Twinkies, too. Balanced diet is important."

"Dean Winchester, don't make me put you over my knee!" Ellen's laughter was strained with tears. "Sam, you load this here box." At Sam's quirked brow, she hurried to explain. "Just some little things to remember us by. And to say thank you. No arguments. You both have come to mean a lot to us. If we've got to see you off, I get to do it on my own terms."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam hugged her tight, never wanting to let go.

Ellen cast a quick look at Dean. He hadn't been his usual rambunctious self after yesterday's drama and this morning's malady. She couldn't help but worry about the omega. "Is he okay?" She whispered into Sam's ear.

"He will be. I'll see to it." Sam promised.

*

"That was fast." Dean commented coolly as Sam got back into the passenger seat of the Impala. He carried a thick sealed Manila envelope with a business size envelope paper clipped to it.

Sam shrugged, "Didn't even see Mills. These were waiting at the front desk. Receptionist said that Officer Mills was in the field making home visits. I guess we passed her test."

As simple as that. They had met the standards and were free to resume their lives. Within reason, within the constraints of society. The brothers were relieved but still cautious. That morning they'd wasted considerable time debating whether this trip to the OPS office was a trick to seize Dean. It was a paranoid possibility. To offset the threat, they had decided that Dean would drive. Sam would go in alone. If he didn't return in a reasonable time or Dean sensed a trap, he was to drive like a bat out of hell to Bobby's. Legally they had no reason to hold Sam. An Alpha had rights. Due process was still the rule. For an omega the system was less than clear cut. Right now Sam chose not to dwell on those darker possibilities. 

"Head for the Interstate. The south bound ramp." He directed Dean as they pulled out of the municipal parking lot.

"Are we really going to Texas to meet up with Dad?" Dean scowled, he didn't think that was the plan. 

"No, but I wouldn't put it past the ever vigilant Officer Mills to have alerted the cops to be watching for us. She saw the Impala, probably took note of our license plate. Wouldn't be hard to make a call to the Sheriff in this county and the next couple over, pass on the description and ask for a report on which direction we were headed. We'll head a couple counties south on the freeway. Nice and obvious.

"When it feels right, we'll cut off onto the back roads. Meander some. Eventually head east, south of Chicago. Got to avoid the tollways. Too many traffic cams there. We'll swing up through Indiana into Michigan. Circle around the Lake. Cut across Wisconsin and Minnesota to Bobby's"

"That's a road trip and then some that you've mapped out for us."

"It's circuitous as hell. We'll waste a lot of time and gas." Sam conceded. "And with any luck the authorities will never expect it. And maybe, just maybe, no one cares and I'm just a paranoid son of a bitch."

"Well if you are, I am too." Dean added agreeably, "Besides its a nice time of year for some sightseeing."

Dean cranked up the volume on the eight track as he swung the car onto the entrance ramp.

 

They skirted the population center of Cook County and its outlying bedroom communities. They drove on into the land of Lincoln until corn and combines were more common than buildings. At some point they took a left turn toward Indiana. 

The sun was nearing its zenith when they decided it was time to raid Ellen's cooler. Dean turned off onto a grass lane. A wind row of spindly trees would provide meager shade as well as screen them from view in one direction. Best option at this point. Dean cut the engine. First priority was to stretch their legs, relieve their bladders. After a month plus holed up at the Lodge, the hours in the car had been both confining and freeing. Like old times.

"Feels good to be on the road again." Dean offered as Sam hauled the cooler out. They settled Indian style beneath the line of trees in the middle of nowhere. "We haven't spent so much time in one place since you were in school."

"I could have got used to staying put." Sam said quietly. He was wondering just who Dean was trying to convince. Without further comment he passed Dean a bottle of the ginger tea that Ellen had brewed specifically to settle his stomach. She had packed thick, tender roast beef sandwiches with slices of that smoky white cheese that he liked, no mustard in deference to Dean's tummy, bags of apple and orange wedges. And a bottle of water for himself.

"Sure gonna miss Ellen's cooking." Dean managed around a mouthful of sandwich. Leaving had been hard in a lot of ways.

"Slow down. And chew that." Sam admonished. "Remember you don't want to overload your stomach. Webdoctor advised small meals...."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't nag. I don't want a repeat barfathon any more than you do."

"I'm sure you don't." Sam munched on some apple slices. He could feel Dean eyeing him. Sam knew his brother. Obviously something was circling around inside his head. Sooner or later it would work its way out in the form of a question or an argument. Sam didn't want to fight.

"You got something on your mind?"

"Something." Dean conceded readily. "You got what's needed to take care of this." He put a hand on his abdomen.

Sam nodded. "I have the ingredients. I'll mix it up tonight. It needs to steep overnight. Vodka or tequila, what's your poison?"

"Vodka." Tequila had never become Dean's preferred intoxicant. Old memories died hard. "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. Nothing much." Sam answered, his voice deadened. "You should probably help. It would be a good idea if you learn how. You may want to know for future reference."

"You're the genius, the science wiz." Dean shrugged. "You're my go to guy."

"Dean, you should know how to take care of this yourself. Just in case."

"Yeah sure." Dean didn't want to dwell on the possible future, he was focused on the immediate problem. "What can I expect? I mean how is this going to go down?"

"You drink the herbal mix. By the time the booze wears off, you should be have some cramping. It will intensify for a few hours. Then there will be some bleeding. Not too much but enough to flush out-" Sam couldn't look at Dean. He found himself staring at his hands. Hands that soon would mix up a toxic cocktail to kill their baby. "To flush your system."

"That's it? That's all it takes? Sounds too easy."

"You'll feel like crap for a few days afterward. The bleeding should slack off in a week or so. You probably won't want to but it will be important for us to keep moving. The longer we stay in one place, the more likely someone will notice something is wrong and report us. It will be two or three months before you'll be able to pass a medical exam."

"And by then there will be another heat. Damn. This nightmare is never going to end, is it?" Dean was pacing, his agitation growing. 

"We will be at Bobby's long before that. He's been researching a safe heat suppressant."

"Is that where you learned about all this?"

Sam nodded. "Bobby taught me years ago. He didn't like the way some of the Alphas were looking at me. And the talk going around." Sam shrugged, rubbing his hands against his thighs. "Bobby figured I should have some say in the matter. There wasn't much he could do to protect me outright, but he could help me this way."

Dean was thinking back over the years he had spent teasing Sam about becoming their omega. At the time he had thought it hilarious. Now it sure as hell wasn't funny. And he could remember some of the raunchy comments other hunters had made. Some had been down right disgusting as well as explicit. John had just laughed them off. And as usual, Dean had followed his father's example and done the same. Now he felt guilty as hell. Sam had been just a kid. And no omega should have to put up with that shit!

"I was sure a douche bag back then. I'm sorry, Sammy. I should have been protecting you. Instead I laughed."

"You were just trying hard to be one of the Alphas." Sam shrugged off the old pain. "When it counted, you were there for me."

Dean's frown of confusion drew out more details. "I was twelve. That night you were all pretty well in the bag by the time last call sounded. Dad couldn't even walk under his own power. You propped him up on one side, Gordon took the other. I ran ahead to unlock our motel room. By the time you got him inside, he needed to take a leak real bad. You got the honor of helping him to the facilities.

"While you were busy with Dad, good old Gordo started eyeing me, I guess he figured he was due some compensation for his good deed. He's telling me that there no reason to wait for me to present. He was more than willing to break in my cherry ass right there and then. Gordon didn't understand the word 'no'.

"By the time you staggered back into the room with Dad, he had me pinned against the wall with one hand inside my pants, fingering my hole. You took one look and went ballistic. I thought you were going to kill him. You stopped just shy. Broke his arm. Threw him out. You saved me. After that none of them messed with me much."

Sam was looking at him like he was some damn knight in shiny armor. Dean vaguely recalled that night. He wasn't that fierce young Alpha anymore. Now he would be the target of the other hunters' lust. The victim rather than the savior. Gordon, probably some of the other hunters would be more than willing to work out old grievances.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, Dean managed to ask, "What happens next time?"

"It will be my pleasure to beat Gordon to a pulp." Sam answered with satisfaction. He passed Dean one of Jo's peanut butter cookies. "Unless you prefer to keep the fun to yourself. We live in a dangerous world. You should keep in shape so you can defend yourself. Just because you're an omega now, doesn't mean you have to be soft and helpless. And you never know what we'll come across even if we aren't hunting."

"You in for the full domestic life, Sammy?" Dean scoffed. "We'd be at each other's throats before a year was up. Without monsters to fight, we would probably be too bored to hump at the night." He finished with a smirk.

Sam rose to police the area, gathering their empty bottles and other trash. "Never know unless you try, De." Never know unless you take the risk, he wanted to add.  
Would it make a difference if you knew odds are it's my baby, he wanted to ask. Sam kept his mouth shut. In his thoughts, he heard the silent chant, 'Dean's body. Dean's choice. I promised.'

Bobby had taught him so he would have some control over his life, his body. He had said it would be his choice whether he used the knowledge but that it was important that he have the option. That he could choose, he could decide. He wouldn't have to consult Dean or Dad. It would be his body, his choice. 

But that wasn't how life had worked out. It was Dean's body. Dean's choice.

Sam hefted the cooler back into the back seat. "We'd better get back on the road. We've got a long way to go."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is now complete. I tried to end it on a happy note.

A simple white reflective sign announced their crossover into Indiana. The view remained mostly the same- corn field after corn field with an occasional combine kicking up a cloud of dust as it chopped up the tall stalks. They passed a few tractors towing wagons of the sweet smelling vegetation off to somewhere the brothers knew not. 

Every once in a while, there would be a pasture filled with placid cows, or perhaps horses, contentedly munching at the grass. It was a peaceful countryside. And pretty boring. Dean, taking an after lunch break in the passenger seat, was just getting drowsy when they saw the first omen. His eyes popped wide open before sliding sideways to check Sam's reaction.

"Did you see that?"

"That what? I'm driving here. I see lots of things." Sam kept his voice even, in contrast to the peak of interest in Dean's. "The road, the sky, corn- lots of corn."

Dean broke in excitedly. "The sign. Didn't you see the sign?"

"Of course I saw the sign. That's why it's posted. To prevent accidents."

"But you know what it means?" Dean insisted a hint of frustration in his tone.

"Of course I know what it means." Sam could play the game. It was always fun to yank Dean's chain. "It warns drivers of slower moving vehicles on the road ahead."

"Horse and buggy, Sammy." Dean shot back. "Watch for horses and buggies up ahead. We're in Amish country! Look. Look at that." Dean pointed to the manure at the side of the road. "Road apples!"

"Never saw anyone get so excited about a pile of shit." Sam dead panned. 

"I don't give a shit about the shit. And you know it." Dean put on a pout, staring out the windshield. Sam was just yanking his chain. He knew it. At least he was pretty sure that he was. They weren't on a deadline. There was no reason why they couldn't stop or even take a little detour if needed.

They passed a field where the farmer rode behind a team of massive horses. The contraption they pulled was cutting the ubiquitous corn off at the root. In their wake followed a crew of men in simple clothes, lifting the green stalks to arrange them into a sort of teepee, which dotted the field.

They passed a white clapboard schoolhouse looking just like one out of the movies or a televion show, right down to the passel of kids in board hats and sunbonnets playing baseball in the yard at the back.

They passed a few houses with laundry- all white and black except for an occasional quilt of magnificent color and designs- flapping on the clotheslines. Sometimes there would be women out working in the gardens, often with young children nearby.

As each farmstead slipped past, Dean's despair increased. Just because you see the signs doesn't mean you find the prize. And really he didn't need it. Dean tried to convince himself. It not like he was a an addict or something. He just liked....

Up ahead, just off the side of the road, there was something of interest. Dean bit his lips, eyes darting to check out his brother in the driver's seat. Sam saw it. He was sure Sam saw it. Yeah, there it was. He knew there would be one. In all their years crisscrossing the country, Dean had learned to watch for the signs, most particularly these hand painted signs: HOMEMADE PIES, 3MILES, with a spindly arrow pointing left.

Dean forced himself to be quiet. In the world ruled by John Winchester, any kid that whined or begged, got nothing but a slap across the mouth. John wasn't here but the lesson was ingrained in both of his sons.

"Imagine that." Sam goaded his brother. "Somebody selling pie out here in the middle of nowhere. Who would want to buy a pie out here."

"Amish ladies make great pies, Sammy. Fresh home grown fruits, real cream and butter and free range eggs. Remember how good that one was that we had in Pennsylvania. Even Dad said that was the best pie he'd ever had."

"That was years ago. There's no guarantee this woman can cook as well as that one. I wouldn't want you to be disappointed." Sam teased even as he eased back on the accelerator. "Besides it would be hard to pick just one to buy."

"Ah, Sammy, I can make a choice."

For Sam, the fun was suddenly gone from their game. Even as he turned into the roadside stand, Sam could hear the mantra echoing in his mind. "Dean's body. Dean's choice. I promised."

 

Only part of Sam's prediction proved true. Dean could make up his mind- mostly because it was the end of the day and several of his favorites were already sold out. Sorry no tart cherry pie today, all sold out. The same with the Dutch apple. And the cream pies wouldn't travel well, the baker cautioned, eyeing their Kansas plates. When Dean pointed to the Sugar Cream pie on the rack, Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. Talk about loading up on empty calories. In his condition, Dean should be eating healthy nutritious meals. But given their objective for this night, what did it matter? Sam set aside his lecture on nutrition as he pulled out his wallet. The Amish woman chatted nicely on the day's fine weather, as she boxed their purchase and gave Sam his change.

Box dangling from its string tie, Sam thanked the baker and bid her goodbye before turning to usher Dean back to the Impala. But he found Dean was neither at his side nor near the car. Squeals of childish delight drew Sam's attention to the grassy area behind the stand. There he found Dean kneeling on the ground before a bonneted little girl, maybe four or five years old, who held a dimpled, apple cheeked toddler on her lap. And there was Dean, his brother who killed monsters for a living, playing peekaboo, complete with silly faces, garnering giggles and shy laughter from the pair. Sam felt his heart swell as he watched their play. His brother had so much love to give, to share. If only...

 

They crossed over into Michigan on country roads that didn't quite line up at the state border. Daylight was fading, stomachs were complaining as they hunted up a motel. The Sleep Well Motel didn't look like it would live up to its name but the nearby diner was the deciding factor. Sam at least had had enough of the car for this day. He hauled the cooler out of the back seat while Dean took charge of the room key and the precious pie. They made a second trip to fetch their duffle bags. Sam opened the trunk. Dean reached automatically to snag the straps of his bag. 

"Hey, what's that?" Dean questioned, eyeing the big box Ellen had told Sam to load.

"Gee, I nearly forgot about it. Ellen said it was a farewell present."

"You forgot! Didn't you open it?" Dean asked excitedly. In their lives, gifts were a rarity. He couldn't help it, just the prospect of a present made him feel like a little boy.

"Give me your bag." Sam directed, being practical. "You take the box. We'll open it together after dinner."

"I'm not that hungry. We could just eat the pie and open it now." Dean suggested with a smile and flutter of eyelashes.

"You're worse than a kid. First dinner." Sam held firm. "Then the box."

 

Despite Sam's efforts to slow him down, Dean managed to scarf down his cheeseburger in record time. The dual promise of pie and present was even enough incentive for Dean to forgo the obligatory consumption of fries drowned in ketchup. By the time the bill was paid, Dean was all but vibrating with anticipation.

As they returned to their motel room, Sam wondered about his brother's manic behavior. It was true that gifts were a rare treat in the experience. But Dean's excitement seemed a bit over the top. Perhaps he was covering up a case of nerves or false bravado about their other plans for this trip. And maybe, Sam chastised himself, he was reading more into the situation than was called for.

 

Dean placed the box squarely on the bed. It was heavy enough that his imagination was doing jumping jacks trying to guess its contents.

"What's first? Box or pie?" Sam asked, savoring the sparkle in those jade eyes.

"Box. No pie. No box. Can't we do both at the same time?"

"Not unless you have more than two hands!"

"Yeah, you're right. First the box. Definitely the box. When is the last time we got a gift?" Dean asked rhetorically. 

Sam could have answered. He remembered a Christmas when Dean had desperately tried to fill in for their absent father. How was Dean to know the presents he'd stolen were for a girl? The Barbie doll and the glittering fairy wand had been given with the best of intentions. His eyes picked out the amulet Dean proudly wore. Sam had never regretted gifting it to his brother, rather than their father.

"Go ahead. Open it." Sam urged. Dean flashed a killer grin and flicked the knife from his boot sheath to slit the tape and turn back the flaps.

"Look, Sammy! Presents! Lots of presents!" Dean shouted, his enthusiasm in overdrive. He pulled one out. It was wrapped in blue and white striped paper. The label read, 'Happy Birthday Sam, Love Ellen & Jo'. "This one is for you!" He passed it over before pulling out a second package. This one was wrapped in multicolored balloon covered paper. "This one is mine!"

The box was still mostly full- a dozen or so smaller packages in an assortment of Christmas gift wrap. Dean lifted each out, almost reverently, admiring the fancy papers, the crisply folded corners, the bright colors and patterns. It was obvious that Ellen and Jo had taken a lot of time and effort assembling the contents of this box. Dean sorted the packages into neat piles- one for Sam, one for himself. This unprecedented generosity left him speechless.

"I don't know what to say." Dean managed at last, staring at the twin stacks. He looked to his brother who was equally stunned. "Do you suppose we can open then now? Or do we have to wait for the real day?"

"I don't think Ellen or Jo would torture us like that. I think they're trying to make up for times past. Go ahead, open one."

Dean chose one of the smaller packages. It was wrapped in blue paper with white snowflakes. Carefully he slit the bits of tape and unfolded the wrapping. "Socks! Look Sammy! Three, four- six pairs. Reinforced toes, too. Nice." He fingered the thick knit lovingly. "You open one now."

Sam made a show of selecting a gift. Picking up one after another, to shake and compare weights. Finally he selected one covered in jolly Santas. He was about to tear into it when he caught the worried look on Dean's face. Quickly Sam palmed his blade to snick the tape. Dean took the paper from him and set it aside with the first.

"New tee shirts. Look, De. The fancy brand that jock advertises. No label. Soft, too. Nice. Real nice."

"Gonna look great on you too." Dean added, admiring the deep sea blue and forest green colors. He thought about how sexy his brother would look when he wore those.

"Your turn."

Dean snatched the top package on his stack. He couldn't help but chuckle at the comical reindeer wrapping paper. Again with care he set it aside to reveal the contents. "Jockey briefs. Omega style." Dean felt a blush rise as he read the package details. 'Trim body hugging fit. Extra absorbent, moisture control front and back panels. Comfort waistband with expansion tabs.' Shit. He hoped Jo hadn't seen this. It was embarrassing enough to think that Ellen knew about his body's deficiencies but jeez Jo was just a kid.

"Hey, what'd you get?" Sam prompted, recalling Dean to the here and now. 

"Briefs." Dean answered curtly. "Your turn."

Assuming that Dean was blushing at the thought of women buying him underwear, Sam reached for another package. At times Dean could be a real prude.

They traded turns until the stacks of brightly wrapped packages were reduced to piles of new clothing, more than a week's worth of socks and underwear for each, four tees, two button shirts- one summer weight, one flannel and each a pair of brand new, never worn by any one else's ass Levi jeans. 

Dean found himself regarding his new wardrobe with a swirl of mixed emotions. The thoughtfulness and generosity of these gifts was undeniable. But right now his focus was caught on the purple banners that adorned each package or tag, boldly identifying each as an omega style article of clothing. The labeling tauted special features that made Dean want to cringe. It was embarrassing- humiliating- mortifying.

"You okay?" Sam broke in concerned by the rising scent of omega distress. He gripped the hunched shoulders.

Dean shrugged, unable to shake off his somber mood. "I'm an ungrateful son of a bitch." He mumbled, not deserving Sam's comfort.

"What's wrong?" Sam kneaded the tense shoulders in his grip. "Talk to me."

"This is without a doubt the most generous thing that anyone has ever done for us. And I'm sitting here bitching cuz my gifts are om-wear. What the hell is my problem? I'm an omega thanks to Dr. Happy Hands. Why should omega duds freak me out?"

"I'm sure Ellen and Jo didn't mean to upset you." Sam reasoned. "They were probably trying to be practical. Filling a void in your wardrobe with things special for you, not hand me downs."

"Yeah, you're right. They're not the problem. It's me that's screwed up. It's been nearly two months. And still I don't see myself as an om. I wake up every morning as Dean Winchester... And somewhere, at some point, it slams into me. They cut off my balls and made me an omega. I'll never be an Alpha again."

"You're still adjusting. It will get easier."

"Sure it will. Eventually my spirit will die. Then you or Dad can pup me out. Raise a new generation of hunters. Or sell the excess pups to finance hunts." Dean turned tortured eyes up to his brother. "Sammy, I can't, I won't live like this."

"We'll get you help. Once we get to Bobby's. A therapist. A shrink. Hormonal supplements. Suppressants. Whatever it takes."

"I don't know." His voice was rough with misery. "I think you're stuck with a defective om. A reject. A lemon."

"You are not!" Sam countered, shaking him. "You're Dean Winchester. And you're mine!"

"Am I, Sammy? You haven't claimed me." Dean touched his neck, the gland now prominent below his ear. "Afraid to bind yourself to defective goods?"

"No! Absolutely not. I want you. But I thought you needed time to adjust. I didn't want to rush you, force you into a commitment." Sam wavered. "And I thought you might prefer Dad as your Alpha."

"Yeah like Dad's been there for me." Dean snorted. "I know something's not right about me. I suppose that's why Dad bugged out. Why you haven't marked me."

"Dean, you're wrong. That's not it. There's nothing wrong with you." He moved to cup that stubborn jaw, kiss those perfect lips. "I've thought about it- a lot. If I claimed you, Alpha to omega, hell, it's a big step. One that can't be undone." Sam ran his ran hands through his shaggy hair, thinking as fast as the words poured from his mouth. "I wouldn't want to share you. Not even with Dad. I know you're not really happy with me. But if we had a mating bond and you're pissed with me. What then? You'd be stuck with me. I'm not sure I know how to be the Alpha you need. Or want. I'm know I'm not very good at this Alpha stuff." 

"We make quite a pair, don't we, Sammy?" Dean offered with a weary shake of his head.

Sam couldn't suppress the smile that curved his lips. "Maybe we were destined for each other."

Dean went to him, offering to kiss that quiet grin. "You think so, bro?"

"Definitely."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize again to my readers. The previous chapter was posted before it was complete. I added two sections. You may want to double check that you saw it all. I made the error but ours guys hijacked this chapter. It wasn't in my original story outline but they insisted. And sometimes you just have to give in and write it. I hope you all enjoy.

Sam wrapped Dean in a hug that might have broken the ribs of a lesser man. Dean acknowledged the strength with a grunt of approval, melting against the hard, tall body. His head nested perfectly in the hollow of the broad shoulder, against the corded neck. This was where he wanted to be now, forever.

"I'm not sure," Sam rasped, nuzzling Dean's temple, kissing his brow, "That this is the right thing to do. Don't know that it will solve anything. But I want you. You are mine. Only mine."

Dean answered with his body, pressing closer, wanting to be joined to his mate. Their lips met, parted. Dean teased with his tongue. "You think too much." He murmured. "Talk too much. Just feel it. Feel us." His hands were busy, ghosting over the hard planes of his lover. Flesh was exposed, appreciated with moist kisses and quick flicks of that talented tongue.

Dean melted from Sam's embrace, sinking to his knees. Before his eyes he could see Sam pulsing within the confines of his jeans. With deft moves he freed the hard shaft. Warm wetness claimed it as his own.

Sam groaned in approval as Dean swallowed his length. His hands cradled the bobbing head, caressed the beloved features, the throbbing subcutaneous gland. Fresh waves of arousal filled the air. Alpha and omega combined to form an intoxicating aphrodisiac.

Dean moaned around the hardness filling his mouth. He worked to take more, wanting it all. As the swollen tip nudged the opening to his throat, he swallowed. Above him, Sam gasped, stiffened. Yeah, oh yeah, this was good. He cupped the taut scrotum, appreciating the weight, assessing Sam's readiness. Dean swallowed again, drawing the shaft deeper. So good. His own body was ready, wet, open and hungry for his Alpha. Eager to be claimed. Dimly he was aware, bothered by the fact he was wearing too many clothes. Dean spared a hand to undo his pants, to push and to shimmy until his hips, his ass were bared. Pheromones flooded the room. Above him, Sam swayed drunkenly before righting himself with sheer determination.

Feet firmly planted, legs spread wide for support, Sam threw back his shaggy head and gulped in the essence that was Dean, their union. Need clawed at him. Desire pulsed. A growl rose in his throat. "De, please- need you! Now!"

It was difficult to abandon the prize he had but Dean answered the call of his Alpha. Hampered by this half mast jeans, he struggled to rise. With easy strength, Sam lifted him to his feet. With torrid efficiency, Sam stripped him, turned him to brace against the cigarette scarred dresser.

Dean was ready, open and eager to be taken. Without thought he moved into position- legs spread wide, ass up thrust, head lowered- offering himself to his mate. He was hot and dripping wet. He was Sammy's. Only Sammy's...

Focused by desire, Sam moved. With a single thrust, he sank to the hilt in wet heat. Twin cries of pleasure, of triumph sounded. The heady aroma of wood smoke and leather blended with the rich scent of fertile ripeness, rightness. 

Arms embraced, bodies bowed and arched. Dean met Sam, thrust for thrust. Each desperate for sensation, completion, oneness. Passion grew. Sam bent to suck at the hidden gland. Passion peaked. Sam sank his teeth into the throbbing pulse point. Dean spasmed in his arms. Clear jizz laced the air, splattered the drawer fronts, dripped onto the threadbare carpet. Sam slowed his thrusts, feeling his knot swell rapidly as he sank into Dean's depths again and again. His knot caught, locking them together. Dean convulsed again. The second orgasm left him spent, limp. Strong arms encircled him, kept him upright as Sam erupted to fill his channel. Dean moaned his approval. He felt nothing but the hard flesh filling him, pressed against his back. Sam, his Sammy with him as he was always meant to be. As he would always be.

Awareness returned abruptly, accented by the mounting need to be horizontal. "Sammy!" Dean panted, limbs trembling beneath the weight of his giant of a little brother. "Gotta lay down."

Sam mouthed the newly exposed gland again, still drunk on the heady combination of pheromones. Moans of appreciation came from both throats. Sam didn't feel any need to move. Everything was perfect just as it was.

Feeling a bit desperate for relief, Dean considered how best to focus his mate's attention. He concentrated. Deliberately he clenched around the hardness locked in his channel. Sam gasped, head snapping up, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed a squeak of protest. His knot was still super sensitive.

"Gotta lie down." Dean repeated, nodding in the direction of their bed.

"Yeah, yeah." Sam responded, managing to think despite his lassitude. With Dean clutched to his chest, he shuffled toward the bed. The bed that was still littered with the multitude of gifts from the Harvelles and the big box that had contained them.

"Not good planning here." Dean sniped. He really didn't mind the knot locking them together or the hard flesh pressed against his back. But a little rest, a bit of comfort would be welcome. "Expected better foresight from my Alpha." He teased.

"Less lip. More action." Sam instructed, moving them closer. "Clear the way so we can lie down. 

Dean obeyed, sweeping aside the small packages, pushing the box off the end, and finally pulling back the bedding. It was awkward going but carefully they maneuvered onto the mattress, first on hands and knees then settling into a spooning position. Now, at last they could appreciate the waning afterglow, the warmth of belonging, the strength of their bond.

"You okay?" Sam whispered into Dean's ear, pretty sure he knew the answer. 

"I'm great. You?"

"Couldn't be better." Sam answered with a smile of utter contentment. "No regrets?"

Dean heaved a dramatic sigh. "Only that we were too busy to eat that pie." He complained, eyeing the box out of his reach on the dresser.

"Later!" Sam snorted, feeling devilish. "After you've earned it."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is amazing to me that there have been over 5000 hits on this work. I feel like pulling a Sally Fields and shouting, "You like me. You really like me!" Thank you. Let's continue with our boys....
> 
> But first a reminder, this is a work of fiction, not a medical prescription. DO NOT use information in this story in real life. I am not a medical authority, nor do I play one on television.

Sam woke early. The rumble of the trucks passing on the highway made a persistent alarm clock. Dawn was just brightening, he could catch a glimpse through the grey Venetian blinds. Dean was curled against his side, breathing deeply, soundly, still sleeping soundly. Sam smiled, remembering the night before. They had literally worn each other out with bouts of sex fueled by one great tasting pie. Pie wasn't his thing. But after last night, he would always have an appetite for Sugar Cream Pie. Hell, they might even have burned more calories than they consumed, he chuckled to himself.

Dean stirred, grumbling in his sleep. Sam eased away. He was awake. There was no reason that Dean couldn't catch a few more z's. Sam slipped out of their warm bed. He paused to tuck the covers securely around Dean's huddled body.

Peeing was the first order of business. Sam headed toward the bathroom. He stumbled over several of the scattered gifts. He banged his shin against the flap of the big box. It seemed disrespectful to leave Ellen and Jo's presents laying all over the floor but he wasn't going to grope around in the near dark to gather them. He snatched his duffle from its customary place and slipped into the bath, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

A quick shower under tepid to actually warm water- damn the plumbing of these flea trap motels- cleared his head. It also reminded Sam that he had left an important job unfinished. He toweled off and dressed with smooth efficiency, half expecting a bang on the door at any minute to announce Dean's need of the facilities. When that never happened, he chanced poking his head out into the bedroom. Dean was still soundly sleeping, cocooned in the center of their bed. Sam couldn't suppress a swell of smug satisfaction that he had exhausted his brother's libido so thoroughly. Maybe he wasn't such a wimp of an Alpha, after all.

Hard on the heels of that stupid smugness was the realization that if he was a real Alpha, a strong Alpha like Dad, he wouldn't be undertaking this next task at all. With a sad shake of his head, Sam pulled the old Band-Aid tin from his duffle bag. It had been a gift from Bobby. A homemade omega purge kit complete with the necessary dried herbs. He emptied the contents onto a towel spread over the scarred vanity top. Time to get busy. Don't think about it, he lectured himself. Do the job. Then leave it up to Dean to decide. Dean's body. Dean's choice.

Sam broke the seal on the pint of vodka he'd purchased a few days earlier. A quick splash filled each of the kit's vials three quarters full. The herbs were next. Making a tincture wasn't hard. Just dried herbs steeped in alcohol. But it was knowing which herbs to use and most importantly how much to purge the uterus without poisoning the carrier. Dean's wellbeing was paramount in Sam's mind.

Sam considered the herbs Bobby had provided. First he selected Chinese Angelica- nature's strongest purgative. It would induce uterine contractions. With deft fingers, Sam kneaded the packet. Within the parchment packet, he could feel the dried plant material breaking up. When he felt that it was suitably pulverized, he carefully opened the packet, refolding it into a rudimentary funnel. With the first vial in hand, he carefully tapped the powdered herb into the vodka. Just a bit more, Sam judged. There, that looked right. Sam capped the vial, gave it a vigorous shake then set it aside.

Next he chose black cohosh root. It would soften the cervix, allowing for expulsion. Sam used his pen knife to scrape a small pile of shavings which he stuffed into the second vial. He capped it and set it beside the first.

Lastly, he selected pennyroyal, the age old abortifacient. Sam stared at the innocuous packet. Its contents would kill Dean's baby. His baby. Did Dean even know that the baby was most likely his? Would it matter? Would he change his mind if he knew? And if it didn't, would it hurt more? Could it hurt more?

Sam choked back a sob. And took the coward's way. Don't think about it. Dean's body. Dean's choice, he chanted in his mind. Don't think, just do. He tapped the pulverized herb into the last vial, capped it and gave it a shake. Sam sighed. It was done. He set the vial with the others. 

The packets and their incriminating remains went into the sink basin. His Zippo lit a pungent mini bonfire. It was the smoke that made his eyes water, Sam lied to himself, as he backhanded a couple of tears from his cheeks. The small fire burned out quickly. Sam washed the ashes down the drain, then splashed cold water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror, mastering his emotions. He had lots of practice. Satisfied he stashed the vials in the tin, padding them with tissues. The tin went back into his bag. With his duffle slung over his shoulder, he returned to the main room to find Dean beginning to stir.

Sam dumped his bag on the dresser then settled on the edge of the bed. He waited patiently for the sleep hazed eyes to focus. Dean could rise and shine with the best of men- Dad had made damn sure of that- but given the option Dean was not an early riser. He enjoyed the rare leisure morning when he could wake, roll over and dose off again as often as he chose. There was no reason for haste this morning. They had hours until check out. And given his circumstances and their activities throughout the night, more sleep was a good idea in Sam's opinion. 

When those incredible green eyes cleared, Sam bent low to claim the lush lips. "Good morning! You can stay in bed if you want. Lots of time. I was going for a run, if that's ok with you."

"If you've got excess energy, go chase cars or squirrels. Whatever." He rubbed sleep from his eyes. "You wore me out."

"You, ok?"

"I'm fine." Dean smiled softly. "More than fine. Stop worrying about me, little brother."

"Are you feeling up to some breakfast? I can pick something up from the diner on my way back."

"Yeah, I think I'm good today. French toast would be amazing. With lots of syrup!"

"Really? After all that sugar last night?!"

"What can I say, Sammy. You're a fantastic lover. The best Alpha I've ever had but you can't take the place of pie or French toast."

"Thanks a lot. Such lofty praise will go to my head. I'll be quick- half hour. Fortyfive minutes tops."

Dean snuggled deeper beneath the covers. "I'll be here." He promised.

 

Dean waited until the motel room door had closed at Sam's back before he moved to leave the bed. He grimaced, both amazed and disgusted that the sheets were pasted to his ass. Apparently semen and slick combined, dried into an embarrassingly effective glue. Peeling the fabric from his flesh, Dean balled up the bedding before depositing it by the bathroom door. He sure didn't envy Housekeeping having to turn this room. They'd made quite a mess of the place.

Naked, Dean padded toward the bathroom. Along the way he bent to collect a handful of packages in his path. Dad, he mused, as he placed them on the dresser would tan both their backsides if he saw this mess. All their time spent on the road, John had drilled the importance of readiness. He'd trained his boys to be dressed, in the car and ready to go in five minutes flat. From the age of five, each had been responsible for his own possessions, his own duffle bag. Anything not packed and ready to go was forfeited, abandoned and left behind. Dean remembered somewhat wistfully the set of plastic army men that had dwindled to none with each move further down the road. Dad would have had an absolute cow over the state of this room. And both of them would have worn the stripes from his belt for weeks. 

Dean shrugged, feeling a sense of guilty glee at their unintentionally rebellion. He turned on the shower. Dad would never know, Dean reassured himself. He would clean up the place as soon he was done showering.

The water cascading over his body felt great. He upped the temperature control but the warmth didn't change. Oh well, he thought philosophically, what could you expect out of a dive like this. At least, it wasn't ice cold. And it would get the job done. Liberal applications of shampoo and soap soon had him clean and feeling more human. Dean paused to gently finger Sam's mark on his neck. Warmth gathered at his groin, wetness threatened to undo his abulations. Best not to go there now, he cautioned himself. Behave yourself. Sam's not here now.

Dean wrenched off the tap and grabbed a towel. Brisk strokes dried him adequately. With the towel secured around his hips, he returned to search the room. He might not have bought the damn things himself- mainly because he didn't know such things existed- but it made sense to use what was available. Dean found the package he wanted half hidden beneath the bed. Telling himself there was no reason to be embarrassed, he tore open the package. He selected one at random and pulled on the om-style briefs. They were comfortable, he had to admit. The fabric was soft, kind of silky. The fit hugged his hips, his crotch without being constricting. 

Dean studied himself in the cracked dresser mirror. The absorbent shields weren't bulky. When he was dressed, no one would know. And it would be nice to know he wouldn't leak slick if naughty thoughts distracted him. Satisfied, Dean finished dressing. His next order of business was to put the room to rights.

He started by cranking open all the casement windows to air the place out. Next he collected all their scattered gifts, stacking them into piles on the dresser. He triple checked that none were hiding under the bed or tangled in the balled up bedding. Next he gathered the used wrapping paper. He should just ball them up and pitch them into the trash. But just looking at the hodgepodge of colorful patterns made him smile. Sure The collection reminded him of Ellen and Jo's kindness and caring but it was more than that. He couldn't explain it. He just knew he didn't want to throw them out. Sam would probably think that he'd gone round the bend. He would no doubt tease him mercilessly. Dean was willing to to take it, he decided as he rolled the flattened gift wrap into a neat bundle and secured it with an old broken shoe string. Maybe Sam would understand, he thought hopefully. If Dad were here, he admitted to himself, he would never have done anything so sloppily sentimental. John Winchester had no tolerance of stupid or sentimental. But Dad wasn't around to kick his ass. So there.

Dean made quick work out of stowing his presents in his duffle. The bounty nearly filled the bag to capacity. Should probably toss some of the old stuff, Dean mused. Yet the thought that he owned more than the bare minimum was oddly satisfying. There'd be time to sort and trash things later. Now he could appreciate his expanded wardrobe.

Briefly, he considered packing up Sam's goodies. He decided that was a pleasure his brother should be allowed to enjoy. Instead he decided to deal with the box in which everything had been packed. He snagged a flap and deposited it onto the stripped bed. He flipped it and with a flick of a blade, slit the tape across the bottom. The box collapsed nearly flat with a persistent bump. Dean frowned and checked between the two plys of cardboard. To his surprise he found another present. It was small and thin, wrapped in pale yellow paper that blended into the box's interior. Dean checked the tag. Another surprise. Neither Sam's nor his name was written there. There was just a large question mark. What the hell? 

Impulse tempted him to open the gift then and there. After all finder's keepers was a basic rule of hunter survival. Dean set the small package on the dresser. Love for his brother, now his bondmate had won out, he would share it with Sammy. 

Dean propped the flattered box between the wall and the wastebasket. He did a 360 degree turn to asses the state of their room. Not bad. Okay. Shit! He spotted the dull streaks of dried jizz on the drawer fronts. Jeez! He and Sam must have humped liked possessed rabbits! He felt a blush bloom from head to toe. Quickly he soaped a washcloth. He sure didn't want the maid to find this, he thought, as he scrubbed away the evidence.

He had finished and was washing his hands when he heard Sam return. "It's about time you got your skinny ass back here!" Dean growled, drying his hands as he left the bathroom. "I'm starving!"

"Wow! You've been busy." Sam studied the tidied up room. "Thanks for putting the place to right."

"Yeah, pretty much habit by now." Dean ran a hand through his hair, preening under his Alpha's praise. "Enough jabbering. Where's the food? What you got for me?"

"French toast. As requested. With extra syrup." Sam added with a flourish. "And a side of sausage." He neglected to mention that it was turkey sausage- what Dean didn't know might make his diet a bit healthier. "And fresh fruit. Watermelon."

"I hope you brought enough. I'm really hungry."

"No nausea?" Sam asked cautiously.

Dean shook his head. "No. I feel great. Let's eat."

Sam divvied up the takeout trays and plastic cutlery. He let Dean claim the room's lone chair while he settled on the bed with his egg white only breakfast wrap.

"Hey, slow down. No one's going to steal your meal."

"Sorry. Just really hungry. Guess I worked up an appetite."

Sam smiled. It was good to see his brother enjoying his breakfast rather than pale and puking. If they were lucky Dean's metabolism had adjusted to the influx of pregnancy hormones and his morning sickness was over. Sam remembered the three herb filled bottles that he'd mixed up earlier that morning. It probably didn't matter one way or another, if the morning sickness was over. Suddenly Sam didn't feel very hungry anymore.

"Guess what?" Dean broke into Sam's depressing thoughts. "Found another present. Must have been stuck in the bottom of the box. And it's weird. There's no name on it. Just a big question mark."

"What was in it?"

"I didn't open it. I waited for you..

"Wow. Points for consideration. But you found it, it's yours"

"Uh-uh. No way. It's ours. I bet that's why Ellen and Jo did put a name on it. It's for both of us."

"Well, you get to open it." Sam decreed, rising to dump his trash. "Kind of plain paper. Doesn't look like any Christmas present, I've ever seen." Sam picked up the small package, studied it before handing it to Dean.

"Yeah, like we're suddenly such experts." Dean scoffed. Carefully he removed the paper to reveal a shallow box. Opening it, he found a layer of tissue paper concealing the contents. "Fancy!" Dean offered with an arched eyebrow. Enjoying the suspense, he folded back the tissue to find- he didn't know what. It was small- tiny really- yellow with a fluffy little duckie in the center. Frowning, Dean lifted it out. It turned out to be a tiny shirt, sort of, that tapered at the bottom and had snaps at what looked to be the crotch.

Dean had the sudden recollection of struggling to keep a squirmy Sammy still while he tried to complete a diaper change. Each time he did up the snaps over the fresh diaper, Sam would twist and turn, popping them open again. Dean had done it again and again, never getting it right. Dad had gotten fed up with the delay. He stripped the little shirt off a fussy Sammy and threw it in the trash. Dad muttered that the shirt was too damn small, that the kid was growing like a damn weed, that all he did was eat and shit. Dean scrambled to find something else for Sammy to wear from the odds and ends of donated clothes. He spared one last glance at the discarded shirt. Mom, he remembered, had picked it out. And his matching one. She had laughed, tickled his tummy and kissed the freckles on his nose. She had said he and Sammy would always be a pair, 'Big Brother' and 'Little Brother'.

Sam saw the sadness cloud Dean's eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told Ellen." 

"Don't worry about it. Doesn't matter." Dean tried to cover with a stoic facade. Sam could see tears brimming in those beautiful eyes that he loved so much. Dean's teeth were clenched. Sam saw the muscle in his jaw twitch as Dean fought to hide the pain. It was a scene Sam hold witnessed throughout their lives.

Wanting to offer comfort, some hope, Sam volunteered, "I mixed the tinctures this morning. They'll be ready by the time we bed down tomorrow night. If-- if that still what you want..."

Dean nodded, silent. He re-folded the little shirt. He returned it to the box, closed it and leaned it against the wastebasket. Maybe the maid would know someone who could use it, he thought, his mind swirling with memories and more. 

Sam watched. There was nothing he could say. Dean's body. Dean's choice. Mutely he accepted Dean's decision.

Neither brother moved for some time. Each was bound by his own pain. At last Sam rose. They had to move on, keep going. Trying to cover his sense of failure, of loss, Sam headed to the bathroom. "I'm going to shower and change. Then we hit the road."

Dean made no reply. 

 

Dean stood, brooding, staring out the window at the passing traffic. Life went on. Behind him, he could hear the shower running. Sam was occupied. 

Dean turned, went back to the box. He slipped the little shirt out and replaced the lid. It's so small, he thought, fingering the the plush duck. But the pup growing inside him was even smaller. Again Dean stared into the cracked mirror. He held the little shirt against his flat abdomen. 

For the first time since this disaster had begun, Dean tried, really tried to imagine a pup-- no, a baby growing inside his body. A baby. His baby. A baby that Sam had sworn he would love despite who had donated the DNA. Could it be? Was it really possible that they could be a family? A normal family?

Dean was afraid to hope, afraid to believe. He didn't have much experience with normal. And even less with happiness. Neither did Sam.

Dean glanced toward the closed bathroom door. He smoothed the little shirt over his belly again. Biting his bottom lip, Dean nodded to himself. He folded the bit of clothing and tucked it deep down in his duffle bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must repeat the medical disclaimer- this is a work of fiction, please do not consider any of the information included here for human consumption.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I forget again, I would like to thank rfg72 and AdAstraPerAspera, two readers/commenters who provided information for the previous chapter. 
> 
> Also I am currently snow birding. Traveling makes writing more complicated than when I am home. I do intend to add several more chapters to this piece. Please be patient if my traveling delays updates.

"You have got to be kidding me?" Dean snorted from the driver's seat. "You're taking me to Hell!" The green reflective sign they had just passed, read 'Hell' with the arrow point to the right, the direction Sam had told him to turn.

"Technically, you're taking me since you are driving." Sam replied. "Got to see a man. A friend of Bobby's."

"Bobby's got a friend in Hell!" Dean laughed. "How appropriate! Ain't going to let him live that down."

"Your juvenile sense of humor is probably why he never shared this contact with you." Sam retorted with a superior tone.

"Fuck you!"

"You are welcome to any time you'd like."

Dean shot Sam an incredulous look but had no smart mouthed comeback to that quiet statement. It sent his mind racing.

Was it a dig or an offer? Was Sam serious? Assuming he was, what exactly was he suggesting? 

His Sammy was never cruel. But he was an Alpha. He couldn't really expect or want an omega to take the dominant role in sex. Could he? Dean shot another look at his placid passenger. Shit! That gave him something to consider. Was he physically capable of fucking Sam? Sure he still got boners, but they weren't as rock solid since- yeah, best not think of that day. And Sam was an Alpha. He wasn't equipped to be on the receiving end, so to speak. His backdoor wouldn't dialate or lubricate like an omega's. Sam must have been kidding. Yet Dean remembered that Sam had explained that every male got off when his prostate was stimulated. Was that what Sam was suggesting? Would he like Dean to spice up their-

"Dean! Turn here! Park the damn car! I've got to meet a man!"

"At an ice cream parlor?" Dean pulled up in front of a place named 'Screams Ice Cream.

"Better than a cemetery. I hear they make a hell of a good sundae. You should try one. They're famous for their "Gravediggers Special." If you can eat the whole thing, it's free..

"That sounds like my kind of challenge." Dean tucked aside more serious thoughts as he pulled the key out of the Impala's ignition. "Let's go! I need some ice cream."

'Some ice cream' turned out to be one pound, in three flavors with an assortment of toppings finished off with a mountain of real whipped cream and three maraschino cherries. The 'Grave Digger's Special' was served appropriately in a coffin shaped bowl. Dean eyed the challenging concoction with determination as the waitress deposited it on the table before him.

"Rules are you have to eat all of it by yourself. No help from anyone - not even a cherry or a finger full of whipped cream. You have one hour starting-- Now'"

Dean picked up his weapon and offered a cocky grin to his brother. "Wish me luck, Sammy!" And dove in. With the first huge spoonful, he moaned with delight, "This is great, I may want seconds!"

"I'll be back in ten minutes. Enjoy yourself." Sam rose from their table. And I'll check our supply of bicarbonate."

"Oh, ye of little faith. Go away. Go see your man. I'm busy."

 

Dean valiantly held in groans as they walked back toward their car. Well, Sam walked. He felt more like he crept like a slow moving glacier. With one pound of frozen dairy weighting down his gut, he was far from feeling at his best right now. Sure, the spoonfuls had gone down easy enough at the beginning. The first half was a cinch. Even when he had to fight off a splitting brain freeze of a headache after just a dozen bites. He rode it out, wolfing down half of giant sundae in the first fifteen minutes of the allotted time. The next fifteen minutes saw another quarter disappear. Dean was looking good, like a sure winner. Bystanders were speculating on the possibility that he might finish in record time. Then satiation struck, hitting hard. Each spoonful became a challenge to his gag reflex.

Reading his distress, Sam offered him an out. He was more than willing to pay for the oversized sundae. He'd much rather do that than see Dean make himself sick. But no one would ever accuse Dean Winchester of being a quitter! It had been a struggle. But with ninety seconds still on the clock, Dean had downed the final spoonful. He smiled and bowed as the staff and patrons cheered. He accepted his 'Death Certificate' graciously, promising to return for a second round at some time in the nebulous future. Dean waved as he headed for the door.

"Get me out of here, bro! Before I puke all over their nice clean floor!"

Dean settled cautiously into the Impala's passenger seat as Sam jumped behind the wheel. Two miles down the road, Dean ordered rather abruptly that Sam pull over. Now! Dean flung the door open as the car rolled to a stop. He staggered out three paces and emptied the whole load onto the roadside grass. What had been cold and creamy going down was decidedly not as pleasant on the return. Sam came to side. He steadied Dean as his stomach continued to revolt. There was little more that he could do than to offer the comfort of his presence. 

Finally when the upheaval was through, Sam guided Dean back to the Impala. Dean was weak and pale, his skin clammy. Sam wondered if this was just the revenge of an abused stomach or another bout of morning sickness. Dean was shivering, barely aware, lost in the misery of his body.

Sam went to the trunk. He fished out one of their old army surplus blankets, snatched a bottle of water from their emergency stash. Almost as an after thought, he grabbed a couple of peppermint so from his diminishing supply. Returning to Dean, he wrapped the blanket around his shivering body. 

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean sighed, appreciating the TLC as much as the warmth.

"Sip this." He passed him the water. "Rinse your mouth. You'll feel better." Dean obeyed without comment. He managed a weak smile when Sam offered one of the candies. "You're going to get tired of taking care of me."

"Don't say such nonsense." Sam skimmed his fingertips over the bond mark. It was pleasing to see Dean respond favorably to his touch. Dean gasped and arched beneath his hand. "It's my job and my pleasure to care for you. Can you travel? Or should we look for a place to bed down for the night?"

"It's still early. Not even midday. I'll be okay. We've got a lot of miles to cover." Sucking on the peppermint, Dean settled more securely in his seat. "It was a stupid stunt to pull. Couldn't pass up the chance to prove myself, I guess." He admitted sheepishly with a blanket shrouded shrug.

"You've always enjoyed a challenge." Sam agreed, tucking the blanket more closely around the board shoulders. "You're a Winchester, what else would you expect?"

Dean smiled, his eyes closed, a bit of color returning to his cheeks. "You always know what to say to make me feel better."

"That's because I love you." Sam bent down, kissed his forehead. "Just rest. Sleep if you can. I'll drive."

Sam got behind the wheel. His plan had been to put another 250, maybe even 300 miles behind them before stopping for the night. But if Dean was sick... Dean settled in closer, resting his head against Sam's shoulder. Sam turned the key, shifted into gear. He raised his arm to encircle Dean. He kissed his temple as the car picked up speed.

"Don't worry about me, Sammy. I'll be good."

From a lifetime of experience, Sam doubted it. "You'll be fine. Rest."

 

Dean curled up as comfortably as his aching stomach would allow. He pressed closer to Sam's warmth, wishing that Sam could just put his arms around him and hold him. But Sam had to drive, they had to move on. Dean made his body relax. A lifetime as a hunter made that a relatively simple task. Turning off his mind wasn't quite such an easy matter.

 

The field was wide and white. It stretched to the horizon, unbroken snow, in all directions. What the fuck? What the hell was this? Where was he? How the hell did he get here? And most importantly, where was Sam?

Dean turned in a slow circle, studying his surroundings, his options. His breath puffed out in white clouds of warm mist in the frigid air. He was cold, shivering, dressed inadequately in jeans and a flannel shirt. What the fuck was he doing out in weather like this without a coat? Tucking his hands into his armpits, he huggied himself in a vain attempt to retain body heat. He would even admit that he wouldn't mind a hat and a pair of mittens! Shit! He was cold.

One fact was obvious, he couldn't stay here. Exposed. Vulnerable. Freezing. If he wanted to survive he had to move on. Looking around again, he thought, but which way? His usual keen sense of direction wasn't working. He had no idea which way was north, south, east or west. Without a reference point, he did the only thing he could. He put one foot in front of the other, aiming at a random spot on the horizon that stood out, different than the leafless trees in the distance all around him.

Moving generated some warmth, kept the blood flowing to his extremities. The snow kept falling, heavy and wet. It clung to his hair, his exposed flesh, his clothes. It melted to descend in icy trickles. He could freeze to death out here. Die of exposure. He had to find shelter of some kind.

He had to find Sam.

Dean touched the bond mark on his neck, yearning for his mate. It pulsed warm and alive beneath his icy fingertips. What if he was headed in the wrong direction? What if Sam lay unconscious or worse (dont't go there), beneath this damn blanket of snow? Sam could be just a few feet away. He would never see him in this white on white world.

No choice. Keep moving. What ifs and might bes messed with your head and got you dead. Dad had taught him that. Keep your eyes on the goal. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. 

For what felt like forever, it seemed he made no progress. It was tempting to curl up in despair, in defeat, to surrender to the elements. But John Winchester had raised his sons to never give up as long as there was breath in their bodies. Dean kept moving, keeping his strides even, wasting no unnecessary energy. He kept his eyes on the target- a big fir tree that loomed on the horizon.

When he at last drew near, the big tree resolved into a small cluster of tightly packed trees. Snow lay heavy on the boughs but Dean could see that the ground underneath was mostly clear of the white stuff, the tamped down grass was littered with dried pine needles and cones. Chilled to the bone, exhausted by his trek, Dean fell back to basic survival skills. He ducked beneath the lowest spread of branches, doing his best not to dislodge the heavy clumps of snow on the upper boughs. He snapped off some dry, bare branches to clear his path toward the trunk. Inside, beneath the thick spread of branches was a cozy nest. Perhaps a deer or some other animal had bedded down here, Dean thought as he knelt down. With trembling chilblain hands, he pushed the needles and dried grass aside to clear a large circle of bare earth. He placed a couple pine cones at the center, topped with dried grass and a couple of handfuls of needles. He fumbled around in his pants pocket, his fingers too cold and stiff to grasp his Zippo easily. One, two flicks produced a flame, lit his tinder. He fed the meager fire carefully, building the warmth.

The fire produced limited heat but it was lifesaving. It was tempting for Dean to lie down beside the fire, to soak in its warmth. But to maintain the fire, he would need a supply of fuel. Dean forced himself to keep moving beneath the interlocking branches to gather more needles and cones, to break off more dead twigs.

Off to his left he heard a sound, a small thin cry. Brief and nearby. Maybe, he reasoned an animal caught in a trap. His stomach cramped demonstrating its emptiness. Stealthily, he moved in that direction. The sound repeated, shorter, weaker but enough to allow Dean to zero in on the source. Ahead in the dim light reflected off the snow he could see a small mound.

Dean edged closer. The creature made no effort to escape. Boot shive in hand, he reached for it. His fingers closed upon fur. Ready to strike with the blade, he gripped the fur, pulling it toward himself. The fur pulled away to reveal an infant wrapped within.

Stunned by his discovery, Dean froze, his hand raised to strike. Before him lay a newborn, the thick purple grey umbilical cord curled between its spindly legs. The child was pale, its translucent skin blue tinged. It neither move nor cried. 

Was it dead? Dean's mind whirled with questions. Who had abandoned a baby here? Why? What should he do? What could he do? Many cultures, he knew, used exposure to the elements as a method of eliminating unwanted infants. Or as a sacrifice to their gods. Should he interfere? Did he have the right to intervene?

The blue lips parted to release a small plaintive cry. Dean forgot all the questions. Instinctively he seized the small body and raised it to his chest. A tiny hand opened to brush against his bond mark. The touch was icy. Desperate to warm the baby, Dean opened his shirt. He tucked the little body inside against his belly. Beneath his hands the child melted, disappearing into his body. Instantly his belly began to swell, hurting with the sudden distention. Sharp pains stabbed his guts. Dean screamed.

 

"Dean! Dean, wake up!" Sam was holding him, pressed tight to his side as he struggled to steer the car in traffic. "Easy, De, are you awake?"

"I'm awake." Dean gasped, clutching at his flat stomach. "Just a dream. It was just a dream."

"You okay?" Sam asked worriedly. "You have a bad dream?" Dean was quiet now. But just moments ago he had been whimpering in his sleep. That and the way he was clutching at his belly was alarming. Somewhere Sam had read or heard that a whimper in sleep was the equivalent of a scream in a dream. "Is your stomach still hurting you?"

"No. I'm okay. My belly just feels kind of empty. Hungry, I suppose."

"Can you hang on for a bit? This isn't the best part of town to be stopping."

Steadier now, his mind clearing quickly, Dean directed his attention outside their vehicle. The streets were trash strewn, lined with boarded up storefronts and graffitied walls. Any businesses still in operation had riot gates to protect its vulnerable entrance and windows. It was a fine fall day but there were few people out and about. A group of teenage boys- young enough so that they should have been in school- sprawled on and around a junker car that was missing all four wheels. One teen, the pack Alpha, Dean guessed, glared at them as the Impala passed. His arm was slung over a smaller boy, whose round belly and lowered head demonstrated to Dean all he needed to know that this was the pack fucktoy, most likely shared by all at their Alpha's discretion.

"Where are we? Dean demanded gruffly, trying not to think about that young omega's life.

"Flint. A city with a lot of problems." Sam slowed the car. The stoplight, two blocks ahead had turned red. He would rather do a slow crawl than be stopped dead at the intersection. The car trailing them, honked impatiently. Sam kept their pace slow and steady. If he could avoid it, he wasn't going get them trapped at the stoplight. 

Their slow speed gave Dean plenty of time to observe streetwalkers, female and omega, plying their trade. Dean frowned, noticing a pimp exchange the leash he held for a wad of cash. At the end of the leash was a heavily pregnant omega, its distended belly on full display. The john was eager to get his money worth, squeezing a milky tit, plunging a hand into the skimpy shorts, before the pair had even reached the questionable privacy of the adjacent alley.

Shit, what a life, Dean thought. 

The light turned green. The Impala rolled through the busy intersection, past more blocks of decay and decadence. Gradually the neighborhood shifted. Decrepit apartment houses and boarded up storefronts gave way to small unkempt single family homes with security bars on the doors and windows. Eventually the houses improved in size and condition until they left the troubled city. 

Grim faced, Sam turned solicitously to his brother. "If you can wait just a bit longer, Rufuous told me about a good restaurant just north of here."

"No problem. I can wait." The truth was, Dean realized, he had pretty much lost his appetite.


	20. Chapter 20

They sat in a simple family restaurant. The place was called the Turkey Roost. It had existed for more than a half century offering every day the Thanksgiving feast that the Winchester brothers had never had. Roast turkey, mashed potatoes topped with gravy, sage dressing, cranberry sauce and fresh baked dinner rolls with the promise of pie for dessert. Sam had thought this place would be pretty close to Dean's definition of paradise. He looked across the table to see he had been wrong yet again. Dean was picking at his meal, moving the food around but not putting much, if any in his mouth. 

Sam thought he knew what might be bothering his brother. Unfortunately he knew that he could not resolve this issue for him. Dean had been pretty quiet since his abrupt awakening in the car. Sam had tried to draw him out. However monosyllabic grunts of affirmation or dismissal weren't conducive to conversation. After a few attempts, even Sam gave up. He thought that Dean was likely contemplating tonight's plan. Hopefully, maybe, reconsidering his decision.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean said suddenly.

"You can ask me anything." Sam replied, relieved that Dean might be opening up. Finally.

Dean stared down at his plate, stirring the gravy into his mashed potatoes then broke up the neat scoop of dressing. Sam bit back the urge to push. Patience was necessary. His brother chewed on a problem until he was ready to share. There was no point trying to force it out of him, Sam knew. He used his knife to section off his slices of turkey. He took a bite. And another. He washed those down with a sip of cold refreshing milk.

"This is good. You should try it before it gets cold." He dared to encourage. 

Green eyes, layered beneath full lashes, flashed up to meet his gaze. Dean lifted a fork full of potatoes to his mouth. "You're right. It is good." Dean turned his head to stare out the window. Cars sped by, heading north or south to some destination. The restaurant's parking lot was mostly empty. They had arrived at that between time that most restaurants had- too late to be part of the lunch crowd, too early for the dinner patrons. The place was nearly empty. Just their table and a group of retirees. Regulars, Sam surmised, sipping coffee and sharing the same stories and stale jokes over pie.

Dean broke the silence again. His face in profile, he spoke to the plate glass window. "Why is it a pup?" He demanded. 

Sam's eyes went wide, his head snapped up and back. Trust Dean to come up with a question out of the blue like this. Sam cleared his throat. He took another drink of his milk. It didn't slide down quite as easily this time. 

"I'm not sure what you are asking." 

Dean cocked his head, eyes hard and demanding. "When you were born, Mom had a baby. No one called you a pup. A woman births a baby. An omega whelps a pup. Why the difference?"

"I assume you're not asking about the anatomical differences." Sam stalled, trying to find the right words.

"Don't play games. I need answers. I'm trying to fit the pieces together."

"Sorry." Sam gathered himself. There were no easy answers. "I not a linguistics expert. I would say that it has to do to the element of ownership. A baby is a human being with rights and safeguards under the law. When a woman gives birth, she becomes a mother, again with rights and legal protections." Sam took a deep breath. "Omegas haven't been around long. Legally they are defined as a possession of the Alpha or family pack. An omega's rights are defined in terms of an Alpha's responsibities. There are few legal statutes that provide for protection, even less case law for the courts to apply to infractions."

That creased Dean's brow. He stared down at his plate as he methodically smashed the cranberry sauce into a runny red puddle. "Yeah I get that. Slice offs a dude's balls, he ain't a man no more. But that's got nothing to do with the kid. Why is it a pup, not a baby?"

"I'd say that it goes back to the issue of ownership again. Property rights. Society would condemn, punish a mother for selling her baby. There are strict guidelines for terminating a mother's right. Procedures for adoption protect the rights of all parties- birth mother, adoptive parents and the infant."

Sam could see that his answer had not satisfied Dean's question. Reluctantly he continued, "An omega's pup, legally, is the property of the Alpha. It's disposition is at the discretion of the Alpha." Sam chose to keep his eyes on his own plate. "A dog owner wouldn't ask a bitch if it wanted to be bred or think twice about selling the resulting litter.." Sam's brow furrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he compressed his lips, forcing out the words. "Legally the same standard applies to omegas."

"There's also an element of downplaying, belittling the omega's experiences. As you said a woman gives birth, goes through labor. An omega whelps, has a pup. Any dog can do that. It's no big deal."

"Let's see you do it." Dean snorted.

Sam head snapped up, trying to see if Dean was joking. The dark expression across his features assured him he wasn't. Seeing their young waitress approaching, Sam jerked his chin up, warning Dean.

"Is everything all right, sir?" She asked, eyeing their plates still filled with food.

"It's fine. Very good. Guess we weren't as hungry as I thought."

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked aweetly, smiling into Sam's serious eyes. 

"No. No thanks." Sam stammered, still not accustomed to attracting a woman's attention when Dean was around. "We're good." He demonstrated that by forking up another mouthful.

"Well if there is anything I can do for you, you just let me know. Name's Chandra." She gave him a sassy wink in parting as she turned back toward the prep area.

When they were alone again, Dean tore back into topic. "Anthony's kids weren't second rate. They were loved and wanted."

"That's true. From what I've observed the - stigma- doesn't carry over to the child. There are so few fertile females now that omega conceptions are the norm rather than the exception. Discrimination against the child would be counter productive.

"That's good. Kids shouldn't suffer for their parents' choices." Dean shook his head and looked out the window again. "But they do."

"Dean..." Sam covered his hand, offering comfort.

"Will it- the pup- suffer when I- do it?" He needed to know but couldn't look Sam in the eye.

Sam's voice was soft when he answered. "I don't think so. The toxin will slow its heartbeat gradually. Eventually it will stop." Sam stared down at his hand covering Dean's. "You'll feel it more. Queasiness. Cramps building to contractions. When the cervix softens, there will be bleeding as the dead tissue is expelled."

"That's okay. You don't have to worry about me. I can take it. It should hurt. You should suffer if you choose to off an innocent kid." Dean pulled away. Suddenly he was on his feet. "I'll wait for you outside. I'm not hungry. But you take your time. Finish your food. There's no hurry. I- it can wait." And Dean was headed out the door.

And that was the problem, Sam thought staring down at his half eaten place. It could not wait. Dean had made his decision. It was time for Sam to come through with his promise. Sam had no appetite now. He caught the waitress' eye and signaled for the check.

Sam settled the bill, leaving Chandra a nice tip to soothe her. She was so distressed that they hadn't enjoyed their meal that she insisted on sending him off with fresh buttered rolls stuffed with slices of turkey and fat wedges of pumpkin pie.

Dean was slouched against the Impala's trunk. Seeing the closed expression on his face, Sam said nothing as he unlocked the doors. By the time he had stashed the bag of food in the back seat cooler, Dean had settled in the driver's seat. Sam wasn't going to argue. Dean was the one calling the shots after all.

They headed north on the state highway, driving through dozens of small towns as the darkness gathered and deepened. Silence ruled. Really there was nothing more to be said. It was Dean's body. It was Dean's choice, Sam reminded himself over and over again. He had promised.

Dean concentrated on the road, the simple mechanics of steering his Baby- yeah best not to let his mind go there- he drove the car into the night.

A yellow and black road sign warned of the possibility of deer crossing for the next five miles. From the amount of roadkill he had seen earlier, Dean knew that it was wise to stay alert. He drove on. In the distance, there looked to be another town coming up as the lights of civilization glowed against the night sky.

"We should look for a motel." Sam urged again. He said it as they passed through the last three towns. "We're getting close to the Bridge. We need to get a room on this side because there aren't likely to be vacancies on the other side."

Big deal, Dean thought. He had heard it before. Several times. He didn't know what Sam was yammering about. And frankly he didn't care. His preference would be to keep on the road. If he could drive forever, he could stay in control. He could live his life as he chose. He could be---at the edge of the headlights' beam, a flash of reflected red caught his eye. Instantly, his foot came off the accelerator and onto the brake. The tires squealed as the car came to a stop angled across both lanes of the road. Inches from the headlights a whitetail buck sporting a huge rack bounded across the pavement. 

That was close. Too close. Heart pounding, adrenaline flowing through his system, Dean conceded it was time to call it a night. With the road cleared, he drove on toward the town. The first place they came to had a neon, NO emblazoned on the vacancy sign. Sam said nothing as they drove on. At the freeway interchange, the two chain hotels were also full. Sam allowed himself a small harrumph that might have been an 'I told you so'. Dean chanced a sideways glance. Yup, Sam was pissed. As an omega, he should be worried that his Alpha was mad at him. But as things stood, he figured Sam wasn't going to be happy with him tonight. Maybe not for days to come.

The town was already in bed for the night as they rolled through. The stoplights on the main drag flashed yellow, urging drivers to slow down, be cautious, giving them the right of way over the non-existent cross traffic. Dean drove on to the far side of the town. Five miles out of town, Dean was just about to admit that they were out of luck when he spotted the sign. The North Woods Cabins had their vacancy sign up. Dean kept his smile to himself as he pulled up to the the office. Sam got out with the terse command, "Stay in the car. I'll get a room."

"What's your problem?" Dean asked the empty seat beside him. He figured he knew the answer. Sam was already pissed at him so he took the opportunity to look around as he waited for Sam's return. He stepped out to stretch his legs. Despite the darkness, this place reminded him a lot of Ellen and Jo's. It kind of felt like coming home. Good memories brought a smile to Dean's lips.

When Sam emerged from the office, he saw Dean standing there, grinning, heaving a contented sigh. Locked in his own frame of mind, Sam took his attitude as evidence of Dean's relief. Soon his unwanted condition would be taken care of. "Second cabin. Grab your stuff."

Dean shrugged off the curt tone. He snatched up his duffle bag while Sam hauled in his own and the cooler. 

Sam set the cooler on the chair by the front window, dropped his duffle on the floor. He eyed his brother as Dean plopped his bag on the dresser. "You should eat." Sam ordered.

"Why? What does it matter?" Dean challenged, resenting the bossy Alpha tone. "Won't I just puke it up again when I down your magic potion?" 

Sam cringed. It wasn't his potion. He wanted nothing to do with it. But he had a responsibility to Dean. "You need to keep up your strength. And the purge will be especially hard on an empty stomach." The twist of Dean's lips stabbed at Sam's conscience. "Why are you fighting me on this. I'm only trying to take care of you."

I'm not a brainless twit, man! I know how to take care of myself! The only thing I need from you is the potion to get rid of this thing growing in my belly."

Emotions raw, Sam gave in. "Fine! If that's what you want! Fine!" Sam rummaged in his duffle to find the tinctures. There were sealed plastic glasses beside the ice bucket on the dresser. Sam ripped the covering off and righted the glass. Reining back his anger, he uncapped the first bottle. He poured half of its contents into the glass. He added half of the second and all of the third.

"There!" Sam slammed the glass down onto the dresser, nearly crushing it with his force. "There's the answer to all your problems!" Sam turned on his heels, headed for the door. "I'm going for a run." He had to get out. Get out now. He couldn't stay and watch Dean kill their baby. The door slammed as he fled.

 

Dean stared at the closed door. He forced down the lump clogging his throat. Sam was gone. Dean sighed, that had been easier to accomplish than he had ever anticipated. He picked up the glass. Lifted it. And took a sniff. It didn't smell bad. He had to do this. Had to do it now while Sam was gone. He knew he couldn't do it wth Sam's sad eyes tracking his every move. 

When Sam stopped to think about it, he would understand. He would know that Dean was acting in both their best interests. Once the pup was gone-- the truth filled his mind unbidden-- you can call it a pup, that doesn't make it any less your baby. Shut up, Dean told his wayward mind. Just do it. Get rid of this reminder of that horrible time, then you can start over fresh with Sam. His resolve firm, Dean paused a second to dig to bottom of his duffle before locking himself in the small bathroom. 

 

Arms, pumping, legs driving, Sam pounded the pavement as he ran back toward the sleeping town. He tried to concentrate on his form, his breathing, the rhythm of his stride- anything but what was happening back in that cabin. A car approached. Sam didn't alter his course or slacken his pace. At the last moment the car swerved to avoid hitting him. Sam could hear the driver cursing his stupidity as he sped on. Sam couldn't blame him. He was being stupid. What the fuck was he doing? Running in the dark wearing jeans and barn coat, geez that driver probably never saw him until the last minute. He could have caused an accident. Got them both killed. Now that he was stopped his feet were also telling him that he was an idiot. His boots were well broken in and comfortable but they weren't designed for running. They were heavy and far too rigid. He could already feel blisters forming on the balls of his feet.

What the hell was he thinking? Why was he out here running like a maniac when he should be back there stopping Dean from making a mistake for which he would never forgive himself. He should have told Dean the baby was most likely his. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference but maybe it would. Now it might be too late. Now they might never know. He should have spoken up before. They should have talked about it more. Hell, he just should have stopped Dean. It was within his power as an Alpha. Shit! Sam shouted into the darkness. Stop being a coward, a wimp. Be the Alpha, nature said he was. 

Sam turned around. He pushed his body for speed, ignoring the blisters and the lactic acid building up in his muscles. The distance seemed to grow rather than diminish. He hadn't realized he run so far. Desperate, Sam pushed for more speed.

Out of the dark night, a rumble grew to a roar at his back. Too late, Sam realized the onrushing danger. A semi, eighteen wheels of diesel powered force, whipped past. The resulting wind slammed into Sam knocking him off his stride. He stumbled, coming down on the edge of the blacktop. His ankle twisted beneath his weight, pitching Sam head long onto the gravel shoulder. He landed on hands and knees, sharp stones imbedded in his flesh.

Shit, Sam climbed back to his feet. He was lucky he wasn't smeared across the pavement. He tested his ankle. It hurt like a son of a bitch but he didn't think it was broken. He tried a step. It was obvious that he wouldn't be running anymore tonight. Determined, he set off again, limping, loping at the best speed he manage. Desperate, he prayed that he wouldn't be too late.


	21. Chapter 21

The cabin was quiet when Sam finally let himself back inside. Instinctively his eyes tracked around the small room. Everything was in its place. The bed was still neatly made. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Sam's perusal stopped at the closed bathroom door. Three strides- his aching ankle be damned- had him across the room.

"Dean!" He called, trying the knob. Locked. No response from within. Sam drew a deep calming breath. One good shoulder bump would likely do the trick, either splintering the door casing or breaking the lock set. Or both. But logic and foresight prevailed. It wouldn't be smart to leave a pissed off innkeeper or evidence of an Alpha/omega conflict in their wake. Especially when he had other resources. Sam drew out his lock pick. In a matter of seconds the door was open.

"Dean!" Sam took in the scene at a glance. 

Dean was slumped on the aged linoleum floor, wedged in the small space between the toilet and the bathtub. His elbows rested on his bent, spread knees. His head drooped between. In his right hand he clutched something yellow. In his left was the crumpled empty glass. He seemed to be concentrating on a piece of paper between his feet. Dean did nothing to acknowledge his presence .

This was, Sam concluded with a sinking heart, the site of defeat, misery and death. Grief threatened to claim him. Sam gritted his teeth, thrust out his chin and fought back his tears. His grief would be a private matter for later. Dean needed him. Now he had a responsibility to his mate. 

Summoning strength and what calm he could muster, Sam approached. He edged in, squeezing his large frame into the cramped space. He settled on the side of the tub, sliding in to be as close as possible to his motionless brother. Now that he was nearer, Sam could see that the scrap of yellow Dean held was the little 'ducky' shirt that Ellen and Jo had given them. And the paper at his feet was the crumpled ultrasound printout that he himself had balled up and trashed days ago. He had no idea that Dean had kept either item. The fact that he had was puzzling to Sam. Why keep reminders of a child you didn't want? Why beat yourself over the head with evidence of a life you intended to end? Sam sighed. The only answer of that made any sense to him was that Dean was something of a martyr; he rarely, if ever, took the easy way.

The acrid stench of omega distress was strong in the small space. It was too late to argue or give Alpha commands. The words he had planned to say would be pointless. There was nothing to be gained by recriminations. What had been done, was done. Now they had to live with the consequences. Now he could only offer comfort as best he could. He had to be there now when Dean needed him most. Sam reached out to stroke the lowered head. He ran a soothing hand down the bent neck to caress their bondmark. 

Dean's head fell back to rest against the tiled wall. Tear tracks marred his cheeks. His eyes remained tightly closed, as he mumbled, "I'm sorry, Sammy. It.... I wanted to do it. I needed to do it. You know why this isn't right for me... Why I couldn't...." A shuddering breath, nearly a sob cut off his broken explanation. "I'm sorry... So sorry. I just couldn't...."

"It's okay, De. I know." Sam responded simply. His anger had disappeared in the face of Dean's despair. Sam concentrated on calming himself, reaffirming his commitment to their bond and his love for Dean. He put that in his touch. Bit by bit, Dean responded, shifting closer until he was leaning against Sam's hip, his head resting on his knee. Sam continued to stroke his head, his neck, his back as the coiled muscles relaxed.

At last, Sam suggested, "Let's get you up and out of here." Sam struggled to his feet in the tight confines. He reached down to draw a boneless Dean up into his arms. He held the unresisting body tight against his own. It was alarming, and more than a little frightening that his big brother felt so fragile. His skin was chilled and clammy. The only movement Dean initiated was to turn his head so that he could bury his face against Sam's neck to scent him. With Dean that close Sam could detect a wisp of the vodka from the purge. His gorge rose, threatening his control. Dean sensed his mood swing, scented his despair in the sudden release of Alpha pheromones. He whimpered, choking back a sob and shrank from Sam's embrace. 

"No!" Sam ordered Dean as well as himself. It was too late to change what had been done. It was time for tender care. For healing. It was time to move forward. "Ssh, it's alright. I'm here for you." He drew Dean back into the sanctuary of his embrace. He bowed his head to kiss, to lave the mark on Dean's neck. 

Dean responded, pressing closer, his breathing steadying. Sam maneuvered out the tight space toward the bed. Dean clung to his side, seemingly unaware of his injured ankle and the resulting limp. Being with Sam, held by Sam, loved by Sam was all that mattered to him. 

"Let's get you warmed up and more comfortable." Sam freed one hand to throw back the bedding. With a minimum of effort, he stripped them both. He knew that skin to skin contact would offer the most comfort to a distressed omega as well as warm Dean fastest. He lifted Dean into his arms with the intent of laying him upon the mattress. Beneath their combined weights his ankle buckled, pitching both onto the bed in an awkward jumble. Wincing in pain, Sam rolled over onto his back. At once Dean moved back into his arms, pressed tight to his side, with his face again buried in the hollow of his neck and shoulder. Sam spared no thought for his own injury. He stretched out, to draw the bedding over them. He ran gentle hands down Dean's back. Dean melted against him, his smaller body half covering Sam's more muscular frame.

Sam continued the caresses, adding soothing endearments, whispered promises of love and forever. Gradually the scent of despair dissipated. Sam kept a ruthless leash on his own emotions, concentrating on Dean's needs, providing what support he could. The atmosphere mellowed. Dean lay unmoving, content to be in Sam's embrace. Sam thought that perhaps exhaustion, emotional as well as physical, may have claimed him. It would be good for Dean to sleep. The more rest he got, the better. Wanting to ward off any chills, Sam tucked the sheet more tightly around the freckled shoulder. 

Dean stirred, kissing his neck. To Sam's surprise, he began to speak. His words were quiet and coherent. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I know you didn't want me to take that purge. You told me that before but I didn't listen. You told me a lot of things but I didn't listen."

Sam fought the constriction in his throat. "There was a lot happening. It's hard to hear what someone is saying when your head and your body are filled with confusion."

Dean nodded against his chest. "I heard you. I just didn't want to listen. I didn't want to understand. I couldn't accept- couldn't believe that this is my life now."

"I know it hasn't been easy for you."

"No, not easy. But it wasn't the baby's fault." Sam felt a tear fall upon his chest. "The baby is innocent."

"De, we don't have to talk about this." Sam offered, unsure if he could control his own emotions, if they did.

"I want to tell you." Dean insisted, rising up on one elbow to meet Sam's gaze. "I need to explain." Accepting Sam's silence as permission, Dean continued, "I wanted to take the purge. It seemed the best, the easiest way out of this hell. But..." Fresh tears trailed over freckled cheeks. "But when I tried, I couldn't. I took a sip. And in my mind's eye, it was like... I saw myself pouring poison down your throat when you were little. I couldn't do it. I spit it out. Dumped the stuff in the crapper. Flushed it away." Dean let his head rest again against Sam's chest. "You were just a baby. It was my job to protect you. Like its my job to protect this baby. I know I've been pigheaded. I've screwed everything up. I don't know if I can do this. It scares the shit out of me. But if you're still willing, I'll try."

Strong arms closed around Dean, hugging him tightly, squeezing the breath from his lungs. "Dude, got to breathe!" He gasped. "You're squeezing my stuffings out." When Sam's grip eased, Dean lifted his head again to study his expression, needing his true feelings. To his surprise he found tears streaming from the hazel eyes while a smile graced the mouth he loved. More than a bit confused and unsure of his standing, Dean tried to continue his explanation, "I'm sorry for the chick flick drama. You've got every right to be pissed at me. I'm sorry that I was a slutty om that needed more than a dozen cocks to satisfy my heat. If you've reconsidered and don't want the kid because it isn't yours, I'll ..."

"Shut up, Dean." Sam ordered, drawing his head down for a kiss, slow and deep. When their lips parted, Sam continued, "My turn to talk. I've already told you I will love this baby regardless of who the father is because this is a part of you, your baby. And I love you. So much." Sam kissed him again. "Do you believe me?" He demanded.

"Yes, Alpha." Dean answered, peering up at him through tear dampened lashes. He dared to place a string of kisses along the collarbone, to nuzzle the gland that pulsed within. Dean smiled against Sam's neck, drawing in the heady scent of his mate's arousal. Sam's body stirred beneath him. Dean responded, his own scent filling he room to whet their appetites even more. Passion was building within his body at a record pace but Sam held him still.

"Not done, Dean. I have more to tell you." Sam insisted. Despite how tightly he held him, Dean managed a sinuous slide over his body, his legs straddled Sam's. The rich intoxicating aroma of omega slick reached Sam's nostrils. It made coherent thought difficult.

"Say your piece." Dean demanded, not the meek omega that he should be. A round of hot sex seemed a good way to confirm their relationship. He rubbed his hardened shaft against Sam's. "Or shut up and fuck me!"

Sam seized Dean's hips, he forced a space between their groins. He had to think, to explain. He wanted Dean to know the truth, the probabilities. "Chances are good that the baby is mine. Hendrickson, the doc in West Mont, said that the latest research shows most omegas conceive in the first 72 hours of their heat. I was your only Alpha for the first four and a half days."

Dean reared back, sitting up over Sam's thighs. He eyed him suspiciously, "if that's true, why didn't you tell me before now?"

"Because I wasn't sure it mattered to you who the father is. I didn't think you wanted the baby even if it was mine."

Dean read the pain in Sam's eyes. His coming to terms with his new life had taken a toll on both of them. He bent down to kiss away the hurt. As he did he noticed for the first time the scrape and slight bruise on Sam's cheek. Gentle lips traced over the abrasion. "You get in a fight?"

Sam colored, embarrassed to admit his own foolishness. "Took a tumble when I was out running." He managed a shrug in his prone position, wanting to minimize the gravity of his accident.

Dean eyed him suspiciously. A Winchester didn't whine about an owie. Or a stabbing. Or a bullet hole. Dad had taught both of them that the hard way. "Any broken bones?"

"No," Sam answered tersely. Seeing Dean's eyes starting an inventory of his body, he added, "I twisted my ankle. Pretty sure it's not broken cuz I made it back here on it." He shrugged again. "I got some scrapes from the fall. No big deal."

Dean threw off the bedding and turned to look at Sam's feet. In a flash, hot and horny Dean vanished, to be replaced by nursemaid nanny. "Shit your ankle is swollen to twice its size!" He was pulling on clothes.

"Where are you going?" Sam demanded, rising up on his elbows, as his erection twitched from neglect.

"I'll get some ice for that ankle." Dean declared, snatching up the room's bucket and the key. "Back in a jif."

And he was out the door. Sam lay back with a sigh, feeling his erection wilt. Now that he was thinking of it, his ankle was throbbing. But he wasn't going die. It could have waited until after they'd fucked. He had only himself to blame, Sam conceded. He was the one who had wanted to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we end this story here? Or do we continue on the journey to parenthood? Have you had enough?
> 
> On a proper etiquette note: what is the status of a story when the author is listed as 'Orphan Account'? There's another story left unfinished that I have continued. I don't want to step on any toes but I would love to share it with you.


	22. Chapter 22

"De, Stop fussing over me. I'm fine. Really. Enough already."

"I just think it would be better if you sat in the back seat, then you could keep that leg elevated."

"My ankle is fine. The swelling is down. You've got it wrapped nice and tight. It feels good. Besides if I'm in the back, how am I going to navigate? These rural roads can be tricky. If we miss a turn, we might have to go fifty or a hundred miles out of our way. Hell we could end up in Canada."

Dean gave a snort of disbelief. "Now you're just trying to mess with my head."

"Geez, would I do such a thing?" The devilish grin held for a moment then faltered. "Hey, I nearly forgot." Sam moved to get out of the car. 

Dean blocked him with his body. "Where the hell do you think you're off to, little brother? You stay put. Rest that ankle. Whatever you need I'll get."

Sam conceded with a put upon sigh. He folded his height awkwardly to grope beneath the passenger seat. "I got this to disguise the Impala." He pulled out a flat, newspaper wrapped package from beneath the seat and thrust it toward Dean. "You'll need a screwdriver to put this on."

Dean eyed the bundle suspiciously, "You ain't putting froufrou on my Baby.

"Don't bust my balls before you even look." Sam scowled back at him. "You don't even know what it is."

"I know that I've got no plans to bust your balls. I've gotten quite fond of your equipment." Dean bent low to nip those tight lips. "Served the purpose nicely last night." He reached down to grope Sam's denim covered crotch, effectively distracting his brother. "I also getting fond of late night fuck sessions with pie for dessert."

Sam drew him down for a real kiss. "You're going to need to eat healthier from now on. More regularly. Late night binges of sandwiches and pie are not a balanced diet."

"You forgot the sex part of our regime. But don't hassle me. I'm taking my vitamins. Hey, I've even given up booze. I want little Squiggle to grow big and strong like his Daddy."

"Little Squiggle?" Sam arched an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth rising.

"Yeah. Little Squiggle." Dean insisted with a shrug to conceal his embarrassment. "Can't keep calling it, It. That's just wrong." Dean laid a protective hand on his flat belly. "Looked like a squiggle on that picture thing. Or maybe a tadpole. Do you like 'tadpole' better?"

"It's a baby, not a frog!"

"No shit, Sherlock. You think I forgot that? It's my Squiggle." 

"It's our Squiggle. Now quit trying to distract me. Open that and get to work. Or get out of my way and let me do it."

"Man, it was a mistake letting you be an Alpha." Dean muttered as he tore into the paper. "You are one bossy son of a ...." There wasn't much inside. Just a thin sheet of metal- black with embossed gold letters. But it was enough to make a lump rise in Dean's throat.

"It's a historic plate." Sam hastened to explain when Dean said nothing. "Not a legitimate, registered one, of course. It's a fake to disguise the Impala. Kind of. I got it from Bobby's contact. Should help us blend in. Car buffs in this state get them all the time for their classics."

Dean didn't know what to say. He traced reverent fingers over the raised letters. 'Michigan 1967' was printed at the top. It was the main body that left him speechless. 'DBABY'.

Finally he cleared his throat, maybe his voice was a bit gruff when he asked for a screwdriver. Or maybe his mouth was just dry. Maybe. Sam said nothing. He opened the glove compartment and handed Dean the tool.

 

"Take the ramp." Sam directed. Dean swung onto I75 headed north. "We can't hide on the secondary roads anymore. Only one way over the Straits."

"The straights?"

"The Straits of Mackinac. Where Lake Huron and Lake Michigan meet. You used to have to take a ferry across. It could take hours waiting for your turn. Now the only way over is the Mackinac Bridge. Listen, I know you don't like flying. You don't have a thing about bridges, do you?Because this is one big bridge. Fifth largest in the world. Freaks some people out. They even offer a service that will drive people and their cars across if they can't handle it."

"You think I've lost my nerve because I'm an omega now?" Dean challenged. "Or is it because I'm carrying that you think I've gone soft"

"Neither, Dean! I swear. I just know that you don't like flying. This bridge is five miles long and goes two hundred feet above the water. Once you start across there's no stopping. If you'd rather I drive, I'd understand. No way am I trying to slam you."

Dean wasn't listening. His attention was fixed on something more immediate. "Sam, look at that." Dean cut in excitedly. "That's a Studebaker!. He slowed as they passed the vintage vehicle. "A Golden Hawk. From the 50's, if I'm not mistaken. Shit you don't see one of those on the road everyday. Look at the tail fins on that bad boy. What a beauty!"

"I didn't know you were such a car geek."

"I did more than whack off over skin mags in my misspent youth. Mr. Z.'s automotive class. At... I can't remember what school. I don't have as many brain cells as you, Sammy. But I know my cars."

"Don't put yourself down." Sam protested, knowing that there were lots of people-- maybe even their own Dad- who would automatically assume an omega was less intelligent than any Alpha or Beta. Most omegas never continued their schooling once they presented. When they thought Sam was destined to be an omega, John had considered pulling him out of school. He had only allowed Sam to continue because of Dean's influence. His brother had argued that schools kept a curious boy out of trouble so that they wouldn't be bothered while on a hunt. Sam had always appreciated that. And he had no doubts that Dean was ever bit as intelligent as he was, just in different areas.

"There's the bridge. Up ahead. You can see the first tower now. We still have a ways to go. If you change your mind and want me to drive, no problem."

"Sammy! Enough already on this frigging bridge! You going to pop a knot over it or something?.

"No!" Sam's face hardened, his mouth tightening into a thin line as his brows drew together. "I just- oh, never mind. It's not important." A cloud of disappointment and frustration filled the car.

"Sure it is." Dean realized his mistake. The tang of dented Alpha ego stunk. "If it matters to you, it matters to me. Tell me about this Mackerel bridge."

"You don't care. Don't try to placate me. I'm not five years old anymore."

Dean fought to hide his smile. His Sammy was so cute when he pouted. Always had been, always would be. Dean felt the slick of his own arousal. Damn. On a freeway, doing 80 mph was neither the time nor the place for sex games. Besides Sam didn't look the least bit interested in playing with him. Come on, Dean cheered himself on, you can do better than this. You've been drawing Sam out of his sulks since he was in diapers.

"Of course, I want to know all about this MacIntosh bridge. And we don't have any cake to play with."

"Cute, real cute. I'm not a kid anymore. You don't care. You don't even know it's name."

"Of course I do." Dean answered honestly, taking advantage of a timely billboard. "It's Mackinack. What kind of word is that?"

"The correct pronunciation is 'Mackinaw'. It's Ojibwe, the Native American tribe that once lived here. It means," and Sammy, the encyclopedia of all knowledge was off and spouting, "Giant turtle. Like I said the bridge spans five miles and the deck is 200 feet above the water. Ocean going freighters can pass under, they look like toys. Mighty Mac can withstand gale force winds. It's not a 'Galloping Gertie'. It was built with expansion grates that allow the wind to pass through it rather than push against it. The bridge is designed to sway as much as 35 feet in high winds but drivers don't even feel any motion. And they get a lot of snow and ice up here. But you don't have to worry, they slow traffic or close the bridge if weather conditions warrant it. This bridge has stood strong for more than fifty years but it's in great shape. They even put a new coat of paint on it each summer."

"How many gallons does it take?" Dean asked figuring he would stump his brother.

"About 50,000." Sam answered matter of factly.

Dean chuckled, seriously impressed. "Dude! How do you remember all that? You are such a brainiac."

"It's easy." Twin dimples studded Sam's cheeks. He could give as good as he got. "For all you know, I could be making it all up."

Dean slid his eyes sideways, sizing up the situation. "Were you making up all that stuff?"

"You'll never know, big brother. You'll never know!" Sam answered in a smug singsong tone. He was more than a little pleased with himself. "It's for me to know and you to find out."

The Impala was gaining on a bright red Corvette convertible with the Illinois vanity plate, 'CHRYPPR'. It was the final car in a rainbow of corvettes strung out along both lanes of traffic. Dean forgot all about Sam's teasing and trivia as he studied the flow of traffic.

"What are these asshats up to?"

It was almost a dance, Dean realized. The movement of the vehicles planned and coordinated. One by one, the corvettes would pull into the left lane, zip forward at full throttle, only to brake to hold position for a few minutes before hitting the gas again and shooting to the head of the convoy, allowing the next corvette to take its place.

"Looks like some sort of game." Sam offered. "Like leapfrog."

"Or keep away." Dean muttered darkly. "They're a bunch of rich fat cats playing with their fancy ass toys." He knew the type well. There had been at least one in every school he'd ever suffered through. One guy who because of his looks or his daddy's money or both, thought he was God's gift to the world. That might have been okay if the bastards didn't expect the world to bow down and pay homage at their feet. 

Dean eyed the game of leap frog, tag or whatever the hell you called it, coldly. It was one thing to play. It was another to impede traffic. These SOBs were driving like they owned the road. Traffic was backing up including several eighteen wheelers, guys on the road to feed their families, while these assholes played their silly ass games.

Dean timed his acceleration perfectly. With a roar, Baby shot forward past the string of low slung sports cars. Behind him he heard the bleat of a horn and tires squealing as the red corvette braked sharply. The Impala cruised past five corvettes before he spotted the object of their attention.

She drove a baby blue Mustang convertible- a '65 model according to her vintage plates- a cute little redhead with high cheekbones and a saucy smile curving her lips. As they pulled up along side, she glanced their way, her hands raised in a friendly wave. A frown appeared when she realized they were strangers. Her eyes flew to her mirrors to check on the trailing corvettes. The red one Dean had cut off was sitting on his rear bumper, its driver looking royally pissed.

"Apparently she's in on the game." Sam surmised, "No damsel in distress that needs our rescue. And I sure hope that you're okay with driving over the bridge because you just passed the last turn off. There's no stopping now until the toll gates on the other side."

The corvettes had maneuvered to box them in as they drove up the long approach to the span. Dean studied the tall tower rising up from the water's depths. The thing was massive, impressive. It sure looked strong enough, although it might be nice if there were a half dozen more. But, it was no problem. As usual Sam was just being a worry wart. 

Traffic slowed to the posted limit of 45 mph. Effectively trapped, Dean figured they made a stately automotive procession- the macho muscle car, escorting the pretty pony with a slew of sports cars as attendants. He felt pretty smug, satisfied with himself. The incline grew as they climbed toward the first tower at a steady pace. Water and sky surrounded the ribbon of pavement. Along side the line of cars, a seagull, two, soared effortlessly at eye level. The water fell out of view as the climb grew steeper. The massive tower was directly ahead, surrounded by blue sky and puffy clouds. Zeppelin's 'Stairway to Heaven' played in Dean's mind. His palms were getting a bit sweaty, but he'd be damned if he would admit that to Sammy. Not too bad, he told himself, just a bridge. Nothing to freak about.

The corvettes directly ahead all merged into the outer lane, leaving Dean several car lengths behind an RV. Screw the speed limit, Dean thought, he could gun it, pass these pretty boys in their pretty toys and be done with this bridge. Dean hit the gas. Baby's V-8 roared as the car shot forward, closing quickly on the motor home.

"Dean, back off." Sam cautioned, "The grates are ahead."

Abruptly the pavement changed to green metal rather the usual concrete. A high pitched whine filled the car as the tires rumbled over the open weave.

"Oh shit." Dean muttered under his breath. The noise made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He eased off the accelerator. The pitch and volume decreased but the sound was still grating on his nerves. If he gunned it... Dean experimented. The whine grew with the speed until his teeth were throbbing with it.

Sam said nothing. He didn't have to. His tight jaw and pinched lips said it all. Dean slowed again, allowing the noise to abate to a tolerable level. They dropped back to pace the redhead again. She threw sympathetic looks their way and dropped her speed so that they could escape to the right hand lane of concrete. Her kindness was futile as the corvettes anticipated her effort and blocked their move. 

It was a stupid, juvenile prank, Dean told himself. Irritating as hell but harmless overall. If he had only paid more attention in those damn math classes when train A was leaving the station to meet train B, he might be able to figure out how much longer this pain in the butt would last. Dean clenched his teeth. It couldn't last much longer. Sooner it would be over. He checked the rear view mirror. That asshat, CHRYPPR, was sniffing the Mustang's tailpipe, with a smug grin spread across his face. Dean felt the urge to rearrange those perfect pearly whites. One good punch would do it.

"We're almost to the second tower. The grating stops soon after that." Sam encouraged, speaking over the din. He caught the glint in the green eyes. "Don't do anything stupid. We're seriously outnumbered here. If you get in a fight, it's more than you that will take a beating..

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Dean scoffed. "You worried about your pretty face, bro"?"

"No." Sam answered flatly. "I'm worried about Little Squiggle."

Dean's head snapped up. It still hasn't a fact paramount to his day to day functions. Obviously that would have to change. He was committed to carrying this baby, Sam's baby. He had a responsibility to protect Little Squiggle. It went against his grain to run from a fight, but there were times you had to set your priorities.

"I wasn't planning to stop and share a beer with this pack of good old boys." Dean drawled as they finally passed under the second tower. The pavement resumed. Comparative silence descended.

Sam sighed, sensing that Dean's anger had been defused by reason. "There's a antique car show in St. Ignace today. I imagine that's where they're all headed. I had thought that we might make a day of it. I didn't say anything before now because I wasn't sure you would be up for it. And," He shrugged, dipping his head to hide his discomfort behind his fall of hair. "I wanted to surprise you." Sam tossed back his hair. "We should probably just drive on. It's not cowardice to choose not to fight. It takes more courage to walk away than to throw a punch."

"Nice speech, Sammy. But maybe you should tell it to the asshats."

They were descending from the span now, approaching the spread of toll booths. Dean was uncomfortably aware that there was a phalanx of corvettes ranged in front of them and another behind. If asshats wanted to make trouble, he and Sam were sitting ducks.


	23. Chapter 23

They were good, Dean had to give them that. They countered every move he made with ease and efficiency. Obviously they had done this before. The corvettes worked in unison to keep the Impala boxed in, controlling his options, herding him where they wanted him to go. They blocked him from taking the ramp away from St. Ignace. Apparently he and Sam would be visiting the city whether they wanted to or not.

"I don't think that we're going to have much say if we fight or not, Sammy. These SOBs sure have a bee in their bonnets. I could bully my way out but that's going to bang up some of those pretty toys. And that's not likely to make them any friendlier."

"Try to pull off at a restaurant or somewhere where there's people." Sam advised. "Maybe we can talk to them." 

"Don't think they're interested in sweet talk, baby brother."

The corvette off his left front fender had rolled down the passenger window. It launched a Mickey D's cup of coke at their windshield. It hit its target, temporarily obscuring Dean's sight and earning several choice words. Another cup of something followed from the car off to the right. Dean didn't want to think about what the yellow liquid might be that splashed on his Baby's grill. He was trying to keep his cool, to keep his temper under control for Sam's safety as well as Squiggle's but these assholes were begging for a beat down.

Dean eased off the pavement into a gravel lot-- overflow parking for the tourist trap offering bridge views. His escorts held formation as the Impala came to a stop. Surrounded, Dean killed the engine. No one moved until the cherry corvette's drivers stepped out. The situation was clear. This was the leader, the Alpha of this pack. To get out of here, they would have to take him down, at least a peg or two.

The dude was tall and slim, well dressed with an aristocratic air. He sauntered toward the Impala like the man in command. Dean instantly hated his guts. From the flood of burnt rubber scent and the low growl coming from Sam, Dean figured his brother agreed one hundred percent.

The Alpha asswipe stopped two feet in front of the Impala. A crony trotted up to hand him a tire iron. Eyes locked with Dean's, he tapped the iron against the palm of his free hand several times. The drivers of the other sports cars were piling out, grinning and jostling each other, anticipating some fun as they ranged themselves at their leader's back. 

Dean did a quick head count. Shit, 14 to 2! Not the best of odds. He thought there might have been a few sympathetic glances from the bimbos left waiting in the passenger seats but they weren't likely to offer any help.

A sneer curled the Alpha's lip. He moved quick, swinging the heavy metal tool in a small arc to shatter the Impala's driver's side headlight. The asswipe arched an eyebrow, daring a response. He smirked, stepping casually to his left and drew the bar back again.

"Stay in the car." Sam snarled. "Lock the doors." In full Alpha rage, he flung open his door, slamming it at his back as he tackled the opposing Alpha in mid swing.

"Like hell!" Dean shouted after him, already on the move. He made it around the hood of the Impala in time to see Sam duck under the tire iron on a wild backswing. Sam landed a solid right jab and followed up with a left upper cut. That sent fancy boy staggering back into Dean's arms which stirred his cronies to get in on the action.

Fists flew. Punches connected. For a time Sam and Dean, fighting back to back, held their own against the untrained brawlers. But eventually numbers won out. Sam, panting for air, was pinned beneath six struggling bodies. Dean was stretched spread eagle across Baby's hood.

The pack Alpha pulled his jacket straight, ran a hand through his mussed hair. He touched the tip of his tongue to his split lip, testing its swelling as he regarded Dean. As He sniffed air appreciatively, his smile grew.

"What do we have here?" He asked rhetorically, moving nearer. "A pretty little om eager for a dry fuck?" He gave a nasty chuckle. "Looks like we party tonight, fellas. The guest of honor has arrived." He ran his hand up Dean's inner thigh.

Sam roared in indignation, heaving three of his captors aside. Dean kicked one leg free and planted a hard boot in the Alpha asswipe's gut, just as a spray of gravel pinged off cars and people alike. The stinging stones flew from the wheels of the blue Mustang as its driver turned a 360 at high speed. 

More gravel flew as she braked to a stop. She was out of her vehicle and on the attack. The redhead was a pint sized terror, wielding an oversized purse like a club as she rounded on the leader.

"Dick Roman, call off your pack of goons! Right now!"

To Sam and Dean's relief and astonishment, their attackers did back down and released them. Their jaws were still hanging in amazement as they came to their feet. Instinctively they moved toward each other.

"Charlie!" The leader, Dickhead, Dean dubbed him, yelped, holding up his hands in surrender as the young woman continued to flail at his legs and torso. "Charlie! We were just having a little fun!"

"Fun!" She spat back at him. She reached up to grab his shirt front, pulled him down to her own eye level, then dragged him stumbling to the Impala's front bumper. She brought him face to face with the damage he'd done. "Fun! Maybe these fellows would like to have some 'fun' with your 'vette!"

"Charlie, it's just a head lamp." Dick whined.

"Maybe you'd like to be spread on the hood of your car for a stranger to paw."

"Charlie, he's just an omega. They're used to it..

She released him with a shove of disgust. "You are just one sick son of a bitch if you think anything you've done this morning is okay."

She rounded on the other corvette drivers now. "All of you listen to me. And listen good. You're not welcome at this show. Turn your sorry tails around. Go home. If I catch a glimpse of you or hear of anymore fun like this- I'll see that you are banned from every rally and show in the Great Lakes and the Midwest districts. Don't think that I'm bluffing. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and call the State Police."

"They're on their way, Miss." A gruff voice called from the gathered onlookers. In the distance sirens could be heard. A bearded man stepped forward. He carried a shotgun. At his side stood a round eyed woman cradling a matching weapon. "I called the troopers when this bunch tore into my parking lot. I don't want no trouble. But I ain't gonna stand by for rape. Was just about to fire a warning shot to break it up when you tore in." The rugged face split into a wide grin. "I ain't seen nothing like it, Miss. Sure was a pleasure to watch you set them right." A smattering of applause from the crowd endorsed his opinion.

Charlie blushed, embarrassed to be the center of everyone's attention. She cleared her throat with a nervous little gulp. With everyone staring at her, she realized that she had been rather dictatorial in her despensation of Justice. She looked around for the Impala's driver and passenger. "You two." She called to Sam and Dean, who were watching her with equal astonishment. "Do you want to press charges?" Her sharp blue eyes took in the taller man's protective stance, the omega's hand lingering on his lower abdomen. "You're the injured party. Are you okay?"

Sam looked to Dean. Despite the odds against them, the damage seemed to be limited to bumps and bruises. The sheer number of their opponents seemed to have limited their resistance and their subsequent injuries. With a quiet murmur Dean insisted that neither he nor the baby had been hurt. For Sam, his most vexing injury was the renewed pain in his ankle. But he couldn't blame these asshats for aggravating an old injury. One of the most basic ingrained tenets of the hunter lifestyle was the avoidance of the police and other such authority figures. The siren were much closer now.

Sam tossed his hair out of his eyes. "Let them go."

Most of the drivers had already slunk back toward their cars. Now that the adrenaline rush of the pack instinct was dispelled, they seemed ashamed of how far their actions had gone. Car doors opened and closed quietly. Engines purred to life. One by one, the sports cars pulled onto the road, headed back toward the big bridge.

"Hey, Dickhead!" Dean called out to the leader as the man started toward his own Corvette. Shoulders slumped, the man turned back to face Dean. Without his buddies to back him, he didn't look so regal now. "What about my car? You owe me a headlight."

"Oh. I'm sure Dick will be happy to compensate you for the damage." Charlie added sweetly as Dean confronted him. "Won't you, Dick?"

"Sure. No problem." He drew a slim billfold from his jacket's inner breast pocket. "Fifty should cover the light."

"I think one hundred is more like it." Charlie countered. She eyed the spread of bills he possessed and added evenly. "With another two hundred to cover the inconvenience."

Roman cast a harsh look at her but Charlie only cocked her head daring him to argue. He said nothing as he pulled three bills out and cast them at Dean's feet.

"One more thing." Dean spoke up, ignoring the money laying in the gravel. Roman turned to him with an angry glare. Dean landed a solid right cross on that perfect jaw which laid the tall Alpha flat upon the stones. "That's for touching me!" Dean turned his back on the SOB and returned to Sam.

Charlie bent to retrieve the money. While she was down at his level she took the opportunity to speak privately to Dick. "You deserved that. And more. You are lucky they don't want to press charges. You might have found a judge that would overlook omega rape. But fetal endangerment is a tough charge to beat even if you're rich. Be smart for once. Use your brain instead of your gonads. Go home. Cool off."

She left him to consider her advice as he sat there nursing his bruises and his ego.

Sirens wailing, two State Police cruisers converged on the scene. The shrillness cut out as each killed its engine. The officers got out. Steely eyes assessed the situation. With a nod to his support, the senior officer moved to the shopkeeper who had called in the complaint.

"Problem, Harvey?" The Sergeant looked hard at the shotgun in the man's hands. 

"Not any more. Little lady there," He gestured toward Charlie with his bearded chin. "She kicked butt. Made them boys behave themselves. Must be a Yooper, the way she set them bastards right." The officer nodded and moved on to the young woman in question.

"Miss?"

"Charlie, Charlene Bradbury, from East Lansing. Would you like to see my license?"

"Let's start with the facts. What happened here?"

"Just a misunderstanding, sir. One of our clubs let a prank get out of hand. I'm president of the Great Lakes Classic Car Association. When I realized what was happening I doubled back to intervene. I've sent the offenders home. There should be 14 vintage Corvettes crossing the bridge as we speak. With your permission, sir, Mr. Roman will join them. The Association does not sanction such juvenile antics. We don't bring trouble to our host communities."

"Looks like there's been some property damage." The officer observed indicating the broken headlamp.

"Yes, sir. As I said the situation got out of hand. Mr. Roman has compensated the owners," she lifted the folded bills for officer to see, "For the damage and the inconvenience."

The Sergeant turned to address Sam. "You the owner of this vehicle?"

Dean stepped forward. "I am, sir." That elevated the officer's brow.

Sam stepped forward, quick to come to Dean's aid. "He is the owner. Our father gave the car to him for his sixteenth birthday."

"Well you would be wise to transfer the title." The Trooper stated matter of factly. "Courts don't recognize omega property rights. You want to press charges?" 

"No, sir." Sam answered quickly, smoothly. He didn't like how Dean's chin was sticking out or the tight line of his mouth. He knew his brother was holding back a load of hurt from the officer's callous dismissal.

The Sergeant turned to Roman as he got to his feet. "What's your story? Who threw the first punch?"

"I tripped." Dick lied, loathe to admit that he'd been decked by an omega.

"Yeah, of course, you did. And you punched yourself in the jaw a couple of times on the way down, right?"

"Yes, sir." Was his sullen response.

"Alright. None of the parties want to press charges?" The Trooper looked at cluster of individuals. No one spoke up. "Then there's no problem here. You, you are headed home. Where is that?"

"Chicago area. Glennville." 

"Fine. My deputy will run your license before you leave. I want you to check in at the Pawpaw post before midnight. Just so I know you have had a safe trip. Otherwise I'll be issuing a warrant for your arrest on charges of disturbing the peace, public brawling and vandalism of private property."

"You two," the officer turned to Sam and Dean. "I'm writing a citation for faulty equipment on a motor vehicle. Get that headlight repaired within the specified 48 hours, bring your vehicle to the post for inspection and the citation will be voided."

"And you, little lady," The Sargent tipped his hat to Charlie, "Have a nice day."


	24. Chapter 24

As the police cruisers pulled out, one conveniently shepherding the red corvette to the bridge toll, Charlie turned to the brothers.

"Listen, I am so sorry that this happened. I promise you that all of our members are not horse's patoots like Dick. The man just can't believe I'm not interested in him. Every show it's the same. He keeps coming up with new ways to impress me, which usually just annoys the hell out of me. He never listens. I'd rather date his sister!" She paused a second to draw a quick breath. "But that's not your problem. Listen, I know a guy in town. Art from Art's Auto Repair. He can fix your Impala in a flash. And it won't cost you a fortune either. Oh, here!" She thrust the bills into Sam's hand. "I'll take you there now. You heard the Sergeant, the sooner the damage is repaired the better."

"Don't need a mechanic to replace a headlight." Dean grumbled.

"Dean, you're being rude." Sam admonished. "Miss Bradbury if you'd just give us the directions to this repair shop..."

"Charlie, please call me Charlie. Really I'd like to make it up to you. You were planning to attend the auto rally, weren't you? I'd like you to be my guests. I'd be happy to show you aroun, to introduce you to the other owners, to give you a taste of U.P. hospitality! Please I won't take no for an answer. We'll start with the headlight, then a car wash. Then lunch for us. Have you ever had a pasty?"

Dean's jaw dropped, his eyes wide with shock. "Isn't that the tassel thing strippers wear?"

Charlie gave a delighted laugh. "No! But that's a common mistake! Strippers wear pasties-- long 'a'. Pasties-- short 'a'-- are a U.P. speciality. And they are delicious. Follow me. You are in for a treat."

Sam looked to Dean. Dean shrugged his opinion. Sam answered with a raised eyebrow. What else could they do but obey the little lady.

 

A day spent in Charlie's company was a bit like being caught up in a red haired twister. Everywhere they went, everyplace they stopped, she blew in and stirred things up. She seemed to know everyone. And everyone was happy to see her. And by extension, her guests.

At the repair shop, Dean insisted on installing the new headlamp. Art was so impressed with the pretty omega's abilities, he added a free wax and buff to the hand car wash. When Charlie let it slip that Dean had knocked Dick Roman on his keister, Art laughed so hard, he nearly choked and threw in a free detailing job. Baby would be primped and preened until she shone in all her glory.

While that was being done, Charlie escorted the boys with a chuckling Art in tow to a little restaurant a few blocks away. Bee's was a place for the locals, Charlie explained with an impish up twitch to her lips, not for the tourists. The owner, a tall gangly man by the name of Bud, greeted Charlie with a kiss on the forehead and a hearty laugh when she rolled her eyes at him. Dean and Sam were also welcomed but not quite so exuberantly. A half dozen or more of the other patrons called out greetings while Dean was preoccupied salivating over the dessert showcase, which was strategically situated by the entrance.

Bud nudged him with an elbow, whispering conspiratorially, "My wife makes the best cherry pie. Goes down to Door County, picks 'em herself. Cans her own filling. You'll never have any better." Dean could only nod hoping he'd have the opportunity to validate Bud's praise.

"Menus or are you having the house special?" Bud asked as he showed them to a comfortably worn booth.

"You boys trust me, right?" Charlie chirped happily, placing an order before the men could object. "Four specials, Bud, my treat."

"Charlie, this is very kind of you but it really isn't necessary. Dean and I should be moving on." Sam tried to explain.

"Nonsense! You were headed to the Show, right? Registration started at noon. I already took care of that while you were busy at Art's. Line up starts at 1. Your spot is right next to mine. It will be a pleasure to have your company instead of Dick-wad and his cronies pestering me all afternoon.

"Gosh, I nearly forgot. Which hotel are you staying in? Do you have a guaranteed reservation or do you need to check in before lineup?"

"We hadn't planned to stay overnight." Sam reported truthfully.

"Well you won't find a decent room now! You'll have to come with me to my Uncle Joe and Aunt Ginnie. They've got a big place up north near Paradise. Used to be a resort. A gang always drives up after the show for a fish boil. Don't worry there will be plenty of food. And lots of bedrooms. And Aunt Ginnie loves to fuss over handsome young men."

"Charlie we can't..."

A short woman, bearing a heavily laden tray, intervened. She was nearly as wide as she was tall, with sparkling dark eyes and a black braid, shot with silver hanging down her back. Charlie jumped to her feet as the woman set her burden on an adjacent empty table. The two women shared a rib threatening hug before stepping back.

"Sit! Sit. You must eat. You too skinny. No meat on your bones to keep you warm when winter blows."

"Yes, Aunt Bitsy. That's why I brought my new friends. For the best pasties in the Upper Peninsula."

Smiling boardly, Bitsy made short work of distributing the plates, each with a half moon of plump pastry. Then she began to set out dishes of pickled beets, Cole slaw and a cucumber & tomato salad in the center of the table. The final touch was the addition of a bowl of rich dark gravy.

Dean eyed the mound of dough warily. Never an adventurous eater, he was beginning to think he should just order a cheeseburger. "What's in it?"

"Good things! You eat now!" Bitsy responded simply.. She sized up the three young people quickly. "You, I bring your coffee." She said to Art. "I bring milk for the youngsters. You still growing children." 

As she bustled off on her mission, Dean couldn't resist the opportunity to tease. "If Sam, here, grows anymore, I'll have to put a moon roof in the Impala."

That broke everyone up. Pleased with himself, Dean broke into the steaming pasty. Art politely asked that the ketchup be passed his way. That earned him a glare from Charlie. Art answered with a shrug of indifference while liberally dousing his serving with the condiment.

"Some folks like to add gravy." She explained, indicating the dish at the table's center. "Heathens desecrate them like that. I prefer mine the way the cook intended. Like the miners ate them way back when."

"Tastes good!" Dean managed, sucking in air to cool a hot mouthful. He'd given up his skeptism in favor of flavor.

"Have some of the salads." Sam urged, worried Dean would burn his mouth on the hot filling. "You need to eat more vegetables."

"There are veggies in this." Dean countered, swallowing that first bite. He picked at the filling to show Sam. "Potatoes. Onions. Carrots. And something else that I don't know but it tastes good."

"Root-e-beggie." Art contributed. Now that he had thoroughly mixed the condiment into his serving, he forked up a huge bite.

"Rutabaga." Charlie corrected the pronunciation with precision. "It's a root vegetable. A cross between a turnip and a cabbage. Loaded with vitamins and antioxidants. And lots of good things for you."

 

Charlie was true to her word. After a very satisfying lunch, topped off with excellent cherry pie a la mode for Dean, they collected the Impala in all her buffed glory. A quick side trip to the State Police Post, settled the matter of the citation. They took their place beside Charlie's freshly washed and waxed Mustang at the show.

The other car aficionados were friendly and eager to meet the new enthusiasts. Most were more than a little surprised to find that it was the omega of the pair who was the car buff, with the Alpha simply an indulgent bystander. But Dean soon won over any doubters with his natural charm and car expertise. For a while, Sam tagged along, as Dean went from car to car, admiring each restoration, getting the specifics on engine capacity, oohing over bright chrome work, aahing over dash gauges. Dean was truly in auto geek heaven! Sam, on the other hand just didn't see the point. Any modern car would be safer, more efficient, more reliable and by far more economical than these pampered relics of the past.

At last Charlie took pity on Sam. She had noticed his lack of enthusiasm and increasing limp. With Dean entrusted to the company of two older members, good friends, she assured the hesitant Alpha that they would look after her new friend. She urged Sam to settle into a fancy folding chair with an elevated footrest. Still Sam craned his neck, keeping watch as Dean made the rounds. Sam murmured his appreciation as Charlie draped a towel swaddled bag of ice over his tender ankle.

"Dean seems to be enjoying himself." She remarked as an opening to conversation.

"Yes, he is." Sam couldn't help but smile as heard a quick bark of familiar laughter off to his left. "Thank you." He added, quite sincerely. "It's been a long time since I've seen him happy like this."

"You worry a lot." Charlie commented simply, her face open, without any condemnation. "But I can see why. He's very attractive. And personable."

"And naive." Sam let that slip out. Charlie was easy to talk to. "This is pretty new to him. To both of us. Dean, neither of us, ever thought he'd be in this position. Then BAM! And all the rules are changed. He forgets that. Forgets to look for the hazards. Doesn't think of what might happen until it's too late. Like this morning with those other drivers."

"I don't know. Seems to me, he handled it pretty well. That was quite a punch he landed on Dick. Maybe you just have to trust his capabilities a bit more." Sam didn't seem to have an answer to that so Charlie continued with sharp eyes to gauge Sam's reaction. "Which brings up my next question-- Who's the computer hack? You or Dean?"

"What?" The show of shock and innocence was good, almost unassailable. "Why would you even ask such a question?"

"Because there is no vehicle registered as 'D'S BABY' in the state of Michigan, with or without a historic plate. I know. It's my job to know. False information was inserted into the DMV data banks within the last 48 hours. The hack was very skillful. Good enough to pass at least a preliminary run of the plate by the State Police."

Sam turned huge puppy dog pleading eyes on her. "What do you intend to do about it?"

"What I should do, what I would like to do and what I can do, unfortunately are three different things." She gave a dramatic sigh, her chest and shoulders rising and falling with a chirping chuckle. "I should turn you over to the State Police. I would like to hire you. I can always use people with good computer skills-- especially now with all the increased levels of security, identity theft, yadda, yadda, yadda. Unfortunately the State requires background checks, certification-- you know the drill. And something tells me that neither of us would be pleased with those results.

"What I can do is give you this." She slipped her hand into a pocket of her mammoth purse, pulled out a fancy gloss black business card, which she offered to Sam. "If you are interested, if you need work, contact this number. Tell them Charlie sent you. As far as I know their work is legal. High level cyber security. They'll likely start you out small. To test your skills and your ability to keep your mouth shut. But if you pass the grade, the money is good. And as an extra bonus, you can work from home and keep your own hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asked turning the card to read the elegant script lettering that revealed no information.

"I know talent when I see it. The hack was skillfully done. Tastefully done. I hate to see talent wasted. And I like you, Sam. Dean shouldn't be the only one making contacts." She tipped her head to direct his attention back to his partner. Dean was surrounded by a group of owners, several were offering him their business cards. Dean added those to a stack already in his hand. Curious, concerned, Sam started to rise from the chair. Charlie restrained him with a small hand on his forearm. "Relax. He's in no danger."

Sensing their attention, or perhaps, scenting his Alpha's concern, Dean turned toward Sam with a beaming grin. After a few words to the group, he separated and nearly bounced to Sam's side. "Look, Sammy, orders! All those junk cars that Bobby's got rusting away have parts these guys need. And will pay good money for. I know I can fill at least half of these right off the bat. If we split the money with Bobby it will give us both a decent income."

"That's great, Dean. Just great!" Sam said sincerely, as he slipped the black card into his shirt pocket.

 

By the light of the dying bonfire, Sam could barely make out the figure seated in the distance. He didn't need his eyes to know it was Dean at the shore's edge. He approached quietly, in keeping with Nature's mood. The Milky Way was spread across the night sky with shimmers of green and electric blue building. The aurora borealis was hinting at an awe inspiring display. 

Still favoring his twisted ankle, Sam stopped a short distance away. "Hey, mind if I join you?"

"Feel free. Lots of beach. Lots of log. I don't own any of it."

An eyebrow quirked in surprise, Sam eased himself down on the beached log. Dean was usually a very pragmatic person. He didn't waste words or time philosophizing.

"It's a beautiful night." That opening got no response. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting here." There was a pause for a heartbeat. "Watching the waves." Another pause. "The stars." A pause for three heartbeats. "Thinking."

"Want to tell me about what?"

Dean shrugged, turning the collar of his flannel shirt up against the night's chill. Sam slid closer, slipped an arm around Dean's back to share his warmth.

"Nothing much." Four heartbeats. "Aunt Ginnie asked me where home was." Sam held his silence. "I know she was just making conversation. But I didn't know what to tell her." Dean dropped his head to rest on Sam's shoulder. "We come from Lawerence, Kansas. But that's not home. Wasn't been since Mom," the night was so quiet that Sam thought he heard a little boy's sobs in the catch of Dean's throat, "Since Mom died."

Dean turned more into the comfort of Sam's arms. "Got me thinking. Where is our home, Sam? We grew up in hundreds of crappy hotel rooms spread across the country. Is home, Baby's back seat? Geez, that's pitiful! Disgusting. Just plain wrong. What the hell was Dad thinking raising us that way?"

Sam pulled him closer, wrapping both arms around the solidity of Dean's body. "He wasn't thinking. He was grieving."

"So were we." Dean responded in a small voice, nearly a whisper. He cleared his throat to speak more firmly. "I don't want that kind of life for our baby. Little Squiggle needs a home. Deserves a home where he is loved and cared for and protected. Where his welfare is the top priority. He doesn't need to know about all the evil out there in the world."

"We'll make a home for Squiggle." Sam promised. "We'll keep him safe and happy. He'll be loved." Sam kissed Dean's temple. "He is loved."

Dean settled comfortably into the nest of Sam's embrace. He was quiet for a while. Long enough that Sam was about to suggest that they go in to bed, when another question slipped out in the darkness. 

"Where's Dad? He's never stayed away this long. Do you think he still cares about us? About me?

Sam felt his heart clutch. How was he supposed to answer that?

Dean didn't seem to notice his silence. He continued quietly. "I used to be his 'little man'. That's what he called me." Dean could almost feel the big calloused hand tousling his hair. "But I'm not the son he trained. Not any more. When those bastards jumped us today, I wanted to smash them into bloody pulp. But more than anything I wanted to keep Squiggle safe, keep you safe. And," Sam could tell that these words were hard for Dean to admit. 'I was afraid. Afraid I wasn't strong enough. Afraid I'd fail you both. Afraid Dad would be disappointed in me. Afraid," Dean swallowed hard. "Afraid Dad hates me now."

Sam gave the only truth he had. "De, I don't know where Dad is. Why he isn't here for you now." Sam hugged him even closer, trying to squeezed out the pain. "But I'm here. I love you, De." He worked his hand down to cover the warmth of Dean's belly. "And I love our baby. I promise to be here to protect and care for you both if you'll be there for me."

"Always, Sammy, always." Dean pressed a kiss into Sam's neck. "You are my home, and I'm yours."

"Always, Dean."


	25. Chapter 25

Bobby braced himself as he checked the spy hole on the front door. He had a strong suspicions who was banging away on the sturdy oak. The fact that he was right didn't improve his temper. Nothing good could come from this but there was no way to avoid the confrontation. Sooner or later it was going to happen. It might as well be done now. Bobby took a deep breath to steady his resolve as he flung the door wide open. 

That caught John Winchester off guard. He reeled drunkenly, nearly toppling backwards off the front steps. The railings saved him, allowing him to pull himself upright to face his old friend.

"What are you doing here, John?" Bobby greeted the hunter, a sawed off shotgun leveled at the other guy's gut. "I told you not to come here."

"Need to see my boys." John insisted with a slur.

"I told you Sam and Dean ain't here."

"Don't lie to me, Bobby. I know they run to you. You're such a damn bleeding heart."

"They ain't here, John. Go sleep it off. And leave me be."

Anger darkened John's face. "I want my boys, Bobby!" He shouted, only the barrel of the shotgun keeping him at bay. "You can't steal my family!" 

"You stupid son of a bitch! You forfeited any right to those boys the first time you chose a hunt over their wellbeing. You fucked up drunken sot. How many times did you strand those kids in some fleabag motel while you took off for blood and glory? To get your god damned fix for revenge."

"They're my flesh and blood. You got no right-"

"Don't yammer at me about rights!" Bobby bellowed. "You're a miserable excuse for a father. Dragging them boys all over God's green earth to show them the worst of the world."

"I taught them to be hunters! The best of the best! They can clean out a nest of vamps-"

"You stupid shit! Yeah you taught them to hunt, to kill. But did you ever toss a ball around? Did you ever build a damn sand castle? Did you ever hug them for no reason? Hell! Did you ever hug 'em at all?"

"I made them strong!" John flung back at him. "I taught them to fight, to shoot. To hunt. To live up to their destiny."

"Don't preach to me about destiny." Bobby sneered. "Do you think for one fucking minute this is the life that Mary wanted for her babies?"

"Shut your face about my Mary!" John threw a wobbly punch Bobby's way. "You got no right to talk about her."

Bobby easily ducked the roundhouse blow. He pinned John against the door frame with the shotgun across his throat. "Hate to tell you this, John!" Bobby loomed over the other man. "You are not the only unlucky bastard to lose the love of his life. If you opened those goddamn eyes of yours, you might notice Rufous is in the same boat. And so am I. Big difference is you were blessed with those beautiful boys. And what the hell did you do with the gift that Mary gave you. I'll tell you what-- you did the best you could to fuck it up. It's a miracle you never got them killed. I know for a fact that you used Dean as bait more than once. When I saw those scars, I should've killed you then and there."

"He come whining to you?" John wheezed against the pressure of Bobby's hold. "Uncle Bobby kiss my boo boo. Make it better."

"You stupid shit. That boy has never said a word against you. To this day, he thinks you are the greatest man to walk this earth. I'm not about to tell him what a fucked up failure of a man his father really is."

Bobby released his grip. John slid half way to the porch deck before lurching upright. "Now get out of here. Get off my property. And don't come back. Be satisfied that your boys are healthy and happy despite all the hell you put them through. They are together. They're starting a family. Leave it at that, John. I'm asking you-- I'm begging you as an old friend, leave them boys be. Cause if you come back to plague them again, I'll plant you so far down, ain't nobody gonna find you. And most likely ain't nobody gonna miss you."

 

Bobby waited until the truck's red tail lights disappeared into the darkness before he heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure his old friend would back down to his bluff. Hell, he wasn't even sure himself if he had been bluffing. The only thing he knew for certain was if Sam and Dean were to have any chance for happiness, they had to get out of the hunter's life. Which meant cutting them loose from John's influence. They'd likely be mad as hell if they knew he'd interfered. Bobby shrugged, accepting the responsibility of his actions. It's what you did when you loved somebody. You did the best you could for them, even if they hated you for it.

 

They had been driving for twelve hours straight. More or less. Darkness had come on fast. Their destination was still hours away. Logically they should stop, find a place to rest up overnight. Neither brother had bothered to suggest it. To stop now would be a concession to weakness. A defeat, however small. By unspoken agreement they would drive on.

When they had awakened this morning, the need to be at the closest place that they could call home had been a mutual instinct. They had to move on. Now.

Charlie had tried to dissuade them. The auto show, she argued, would continue today and tomorrow. There were more people she would like them to meet. More good times to be shared. 

Aunt Ginnie took one long look at Dean, then Sam. With authority she had shushed Charlie's protests. Apparently she understood the need to be home. Yet she was a practical woman as well. She wouldn't hear of them going with hungry bellies or an empty cooler. So Sam and Dean had chowed down on a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs and blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup from the neighbor's sugar bush. While Aunt Ginnie and Charlie had assembled a dozen sandwiches and packed healthy snacks of apples and veggies, adding oatmeal and raisin cookies to satisfy Dean's sweet tooth.

The goodbyes had been hard and heartfelt. As were the wishes for health and happiness.

They'd driven through the pine forests of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, across the width of Wisconsin. They'd crossed the mighty Mississippi at the picturesque little burg by the name of Stillwater. The new state, Minnesota, didn't seem much different from the last. Lots of placid cows in sweeping pasture land. Farmers every so often chugging around on tractors, doing their harvesting thing. There were lakes sprinkled here and there, not big ones like the Great ones but big enough that the roads zigged this way and that. And towns, mostly small ones, that held no interest but served to slow them down. 

At last a sign proclaimed, 'Welcome to South Dakota, the Mount Rushmore State.'

Dean pulled Baby to the side of the road. He'd done his latest four hour shift behind the wheel and needed to take a leak. They'd been driving nonstop the whole damn day, pausing only long enough to trade positions and relieve their bladders. He was tired. So was Sam. 

He stretched his arms over his head, then twisted at the waist to relieve the ache in his back. He shook the weariness out of his legs as he made his way over to a friendly looking bush at the edge of the headlights' beam.

Aaah! What a relief! Dean thought to himself. The little things still mattered big time. He shook off the last drops before tucking his equipment back into his pants and did up the fly. That's how he should go about living life as an omega, he decided. Stop being weepy about the stuff that had changed, instead be grateful for the things that were the same. Like being able to pee standing up. And Sam. Maybe he could actually get used to being an om. A tiny flutter in his belly surprised him into stillness. Could that be Little Squiggle putting in his two cents? Dean waited, holding his breath for the sensation to repeat. 

Nothing happened. 

"Probably just a fart working its way out." He muttered to himself as he made his way back to the car, to Sam. Too many vegetables, too much healthy eating would probably give him the trots, Dean concluded.

Dean was surprised to find Sam still asleep, origamied into the Impala's shotgun seat. If he was stiff and cramped after the day's driving, Sam with his long limbs, had to be even more uncomfortable. And obviously he was tired. Dean decided he would just let Sam sleep. In a few miles they'd join up with I-90. It was a straight shot into Sioux Falls then. Not much more than an hour to Bobby's place on the far side of town. He could find the way in his sleep. As if on cue, a huge yawn rose up. Maybe he'd have to do just that, he chuckled to himself, as he made his way around to the driver's side.

The influx of crisp night air as Dean opened the door manage to rouse Sam. "Are we there yet?" Sam drawled, blinking in confusion. Big hands came up to scrub the remains of sleep from the slack features, to push the mussed hair back behind his ears. "Where are we?" Sam demanded taking a good look at their surroundings. 

Dean eased his stiff body back behind the wheel. "Hey there, Sleeping Beauty!" Dean teased as he stretched over the gear shift to plant a kiss on those tempting lips. "We just crossed into Dakota. 90 is just ahead. I wouldn't have stopped but I had to drain the lizard."

Sam stretched to the limits the car's confines would allow. "Me, too." He managed through a huge yawn as he climbed out. "Give me a second. Then I'll drive. It's my turn. And you look like hell." 

"So much for sweet talk." Dean grumbled to his brother's back. Sam ignored him, intent on finding a tree to water. A smile crooked Dean's mouth. "I guess the honeymoon is over."


	26. Chapter 26

They rolled into the salvage yard just shy of midnight. Pulling up in front of house, they saw not a glimmer of light. Dean stared through the windshield at the darkened facade. "Guess Bobby wasn't expecting us."

"He knew we were on the road. He just didn't know when we would get here."

"You know he's gonna grouse at us for not calling and giving him fair warning." Dean rubbed the back of his neck , trying to work out the kink that had taken hold while he dozed en route.

"Should we call him now, let him know we're out here.? Or just bang on the door?" Sam sounded more like a tired toddler than an in charge Alpha.

"I learned long ago not to poke a bear in his den. As I recall, Bobby doesn't get rousted out of bed in a friendly mood."

"What are we going to do? We can't just sit here staring at the front door until morning." Sam wiped a hand over his face. It did nothing to ease his fatigue except rearrange the grit behind his eyelids. "I suppose we could backtrack to that motel we passed. It was only a mile or two down the road." 

"That dive is hooker headquarters! They rent rooms by the half hour! With all the comings and goings at that place, we'd get a better night sleep right here in Baby."

"Really, Dean, you want to sleep in the car?" Sam asked, both eyebrows on the rise.

"Won't be the first time. Hopefully it will be the last." Dean put in. "What do you say, Sammy, one last time before we become respectable? Besides its better than picking rock salt out of our hides if Bobby is trigger happy."

"Dean, there are other motels..."

"Ah, Sammy, compromise is the key to any good relationship. Where's your sense of fun? Come on, one last time for old times sake."

In the darkness Dean couldn't see Sam roll his eyes at him but he'd bet a hundred dollars that he did. Without a word, Sam climbed out of the driver's seat. He opened the trunk and began to pull out what they would need to be reasonably comfortable. Both duffles stacked would fill the space behind the driver's seat thus widening the bench seat. One well worn blanket rolled would serve as a pillow. They would share the second for warmth. They arranged it all carefully, their actions well orchestrated, perfected by years of practice.

Sam crawled into the back seat first. He unlaced his boots then toed them off. He stretched out as Dean joined him, perched on the edge to remove his own shoes. Dean scooted over to spoon against Sam's muscular frame. He pulled the blanket over them both. It took a few moments of adjustments to interlock limbs and settle bodies. Soon, with little fuss, the pair were comfortably entwined. 

Despite the tight quarters, Sam felt surprisingly content, warm with Dean with securely wrapped in his arms. His mind started to drift toward sleep. His nose was nestled at that sweet spot just behind Dean's ear. He inhaled deeply, loving the scent of contented Dean- mellow and rich with familiar spicy undertones. His arms tightened automatically. Dean melted against him even more. Sam's body registered the annoyance of the layers of clothes separating their flesh. Naked bodies pressed together were preferred. However that wasn't practical here and now. 

Naked bodies. 

The thought triggered a connection, a question. "How do you know that motel is whore central?" Sam murmured sleepily into Dean's ear.

Dean chuckled softly, before giving a dramatic sigh. "The good old days." He raised Sam's hand to kiss their interlocked fingers. "Sowed some wild oats once upon a time. Nothing to worry about. I'm all yours now." Dean vowed. "Only yours, Sammy."

Sam grunted his affirmation. Satisfied and comfortable, fatigue demanded it's due. Dean followed him into sleep.

 

As usual, Bobby woke shortly after sunrise. He had no reason to get up at such an early hour. But he knew from experience that he couldn't just roll over and go back to sleep. Sleeping in was not in his constitution. His Ma had been fond of the old adage- You can take the boy out of the country but you can't take the country out of the boy. Bobby felt he was certainly proof of that.

Functioning on autopilot, Bobby showered and dressed. He could smell the coffee already brewing down in the kitchen courtesy of the newfangled Mr. Coffee machine with its built in timer. Pretty clever of Jolting Joe DiMaggio to come up with a useful gadget like that!

Whistling a happy tune, Bobby headed for the kitchen and that first blessed cup of joe to start the day off right. The day was looking promising. He had a night's uninterrupted sleep. There were no phones ringing with questions or crises. Yeah, he had some research to finish up, but it wasn't pressing. Hell! Maybe he'd just take the day off and go fishing.

That feeling good mood lasted to the stairway landing. As he faced the front door a scowl formed on the bearded face. Beyond the door's unleaded glass he could see something dark and big at his doorstep. Bobby wasn't fond of unexpected visitors. He recognized the shape as a vehicle. Bobby's hand closed on one of the many shotguns that he had strategically stashed throughout the house. He had his suspicions who had come calling. John Winchester hasn't a man who gave up easily

Saying a silent prayer that John wasn't back to bust his balls again, Bobby turned the key. John had once been a good man. But there was no reasoning with a man living in the bottle. It was a crying shame. John was one of the best hunters he had ever known. Now the poor bastard was in a tailspin. The outcome didn't look good.

Cautiously, Bobby cracked open the front door. There was no body- dead or drunk- on the doorstep. That was a good sign. Gun still in hand, Bobby stepped out onto the front porch to size up the invader to his domain.

Shit! He knew that car! Bobby lowered the shotgun, dropped back a step to prop it just inside the door. Bobby clambered down the steps at double speed. The car's engine was cold. The windows are fogged from the inside. There didn't seem to be anyone moving inside. Bobby was about to test the door handles when he remembered who he was dealing with. Winchesters never went unarmed. Waking one could prove painful, possibly deadly. He didn't cotton to bleeding today. Best to be careful.

Bobby retreated to the house, snatched up the nearest phone and punched in Sam's number as he returned to the porch. From his perch on the steps. He could see obscured figures raise their heads. He could imagine a bit of sleep induced fumbling as Sam tried to answer his call. Finally a gravelly voice sounded in his ear.

"Hello?"

"You idjits forget how to knock?"

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, it's me. About time you boys found your way."

The back car door flew open. Dean tumbled out, sleepy-eyed, shoeless and-- different. Not drastically changed but definitely different, Bobby noted with sharp eyes. The chin scruff the kid had proudly sported since he was a teenager was gone. The absence made the kid look younger, showed off those high fine cheekbones. It made Dean's lips seem more pronounced- fuller, softer, pink and lush. And his eyes, those big green eyes that had been pretty enough to get the boy teased all his life, now were downright breathtaking. Was it possible that his eyelashes were actually longer and thicker or was he just imagining that, Bobby asked himself. The kid had always been a looker. Now Dean as an omega was drop dead gorgeous!

Dean bounded up the steps, two at a time, to fling himself at Bobby. Bobby crushed the boy to his chest in a bear hug. He had to force back a oath of dismay. The kid had to have lost 20 pounds of muscle. Dean was still solid, to be sure. There was nothing fragile about the kid, just refined, tempered like steel. Bobby swallowed hard, thankful he was a Beta and therefore immune the Dean's charms. He and Sam were likely to have their hands full fending off horny Alphas left and right.

Bobby looked beyond Dean to the younger Winchester. It had been almost a year since he'd seen these boys, men, he corrected himself. Sam was most definitely not a boy by any definition of the word. He had to have grown at least six inches. And apparently he had packed on all the muscle Dean had lost and then some. The kid was absolutely ripped! Bobby was relieved to see the familiar lopsided grin on Sam's face. There was no way he wanted to tangle with this new and improved Alpha version of the boy he knew.

Reluctantly, Bobby eased his grip on Dean. "God, it's good to see you boys! Come on, let's get you settled." He led the way into the house. "You can have your pick of the bedrooms upstairs. Bedding is fresh. Towels in the linen closet. You two go freshen up and I'll start breakfast."

Dean bloomed with a dopey grin. "Race you!" He called out to Sam as he started up the staircase at break neck speed. Sam spared Bobby one long suffering look before he followed at a slightly more sedate pace, burdened by both duffle bags.

Bobby watched the pair disappear with a resigned head shake and a chuckle or two. They might be men but they were still boys at heart. His boys. He headed for the kitchen, recalling the first time John had brought his sons to stay with him. It had been the little things that broke his heart.

Four year old Sam's awestruck expression as he experienced a house with separate bedrooms, a living room and kitchen. The boy had spent the entire time wandering from one room to another, exploring, not touching, looking here, there, everywhere.

And Dean had insisted that he and Sam sleep in separate rooms, using the logic that all those beds were wasted if nobody slept in them. Bobby agreed, of course. It was no skin off his nose after all. Yet every night Bobby tucked them into separate beds, in separate rooms. Every morning somehow they woke up, cuddled together, cute as could be.

Bobby went to the refrigerator. He began pulling out eggs, bacon, cheese. He'd do omelets, he decided. Hmm, did he still have some blueberries in the freezer? Wouldn't take much to whip up a batch of muffins. His boys sure favored fresh baked goods. 

The memory of that first stay circled back inside Bobby's head. Those boys had been all big eyes and empty bellies when it came to eating. Three squares a day were an unheard of delight. Food was what was put in front of you. You didn't ask. You didn't complain. You ate what you were given. And you shared with your brother. Jerky and corn chips were the biggest component of their regular diet. Fresh fruit and vegetables, a true wonder. It had taken some doing for Bobby to expand their palates before John returned for his sons. When he sat down to meal after the Winchesters had left, he had to wonder if he'd done those boys any favor introducing them to things they might.never have again. Bobby remembered he didn't have much appetite after that.

Enough maudlin memories, Bobby chastised himself. His boys were home. And they'd be hungry. Bobby assembled his ingredients. He was no master chef but he could cook. He could hear the pipes of his old places singing. He figured the boys would be taking turns showering. He'd best get busy. Whistling that happy tune, Bobby scooped a cup of flour into the mixing bowl.


	27. Chapter 27

Sam turned off the shower tap. He slicked his sopping wet hair back off his face and reached for the towel he had left hanging from the hook. With brisk strokes he toweled off. He didn't dawdle. Dean was waiting for his turn in the shower. Sam swiped a corner of his damp towel across the mirror over the sink. It cleared a swatch of steam from the glass, enough so that he could pull a comb through his unruly hair.

Securing the towel around his hips, Sam padded from the bath, down the hall to the back bedroom he and Dean had chosen to share. It was the room their father had claimed on the rare occasions when he stayed over at Bobby's. As kids, they had slept in the two small bedrooms across the hall.

Sam stepped into their room to find Dean, standing in front of the full length mirror hung on the closet door. Naked, he turned from side to side, studying his body from various angles. When he caught sight of Sam in the mirror's reflection, Dean barely spared him a glance. 

"Do my tits look bigger?" He demanded an opinion.

"You look perfect." Sam stated smoothly, stepping up behind Dean.

"Don't give me any of the placating shit. Answer the question." Dean swung around to confront his Alpha.

"Your body is still changing to accommodate Squiggle."

Dean scowled at his response. "I knew it! I am growing moobs!"

"Moobs?" Confusion skewed Sam's handsome features.

"Moobs! Sammy, you know, man boobs!" Dean said with disgust. He slapped both hands flat against his chest, as if that could stop the change. "Shit! Ow! Dammit that hurt!"

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" Sam pulled Dean closer, grasping his hips to still his agitation. "De, take it easy. You do not have moobs. The aureolaes have darkened. Your nipples are a bit more pronounced." Sam gently skimmed the pad of his thumbs over Dean's nubs. Dean hissed in a sharp intake of air through gritted teeth. "More sensitive." Sam moved his hands back to Dean's hips. "Your pecs are still firm." Sam leaned in for a quick kiss. "Your body is beautiful." As if to underscore his words, Sam's shaft stiffened beneath the towel still wrapped around his hips.

Dean drew in a slow deep breath. His hands closed on Sam's wrists. He guided the big hands back to his chest. "Do that again."

Sam replied with a slow, sexy grin. He quirked an eyebrow. "I wouldn't want to hurt you..."

"You won't."

Sam repeated his touch. Dean moaned, pushing himself into Sam's hands. The thick scent of arousal, spicy, hot and earthy filled the air. Both shafts rose in search of pleasure. Sam inhaled deeply. His head, his throat, his chest were filled with their combined pheromones. His head, his cock, his heart were suddenly pounding with one thought- Dean! Dean! Dean!

Sam dared to pinch those sensitive buds. Dean growled in approval. A flood of slick lubed his channel, overflowed to wet his thighs, the hardwood floor where he stood. In a deep guttural growl, Dean begged, "Sammy, please! Need you! Now! Please!"

Their lips met as they sought to devour each other. Tongues entwined, dueled, danced. Mouths sucked, nipped at accessible flesh. Sam bent down to kiss, then lick those wonderfully sensitive paps. Dean gasped in agonized arousal as Sam settled in to suck one nipple. Dean's head fell back, kiss swollen lips parted in sharp cries of delight. Fists clutched Sam's wet hair, directing the attention to one side then the other. Sam answered with throaty growls as he enjoyed the feast.

Sam's arms closed around the more compact body. He lifted Dean, big hands cupping the full ass, parting the firm globes. Dean wrapped his legs around Sam's waist. He angled his pelvis just right. Sam's hardness found its home, sliding into the slick wet haven of Dean! Dean! Dean!

To support Dean's weight, Sam widened his stance. His foot slipped in the overflow of slick. Their interlocked bodies tilted. Sam stumbled forward. Dean's shoulder collided with the open closet door. It slammed shut with a resounding bang. Sam found his footing. He pinned Dean against the door frame. With a solid surface to aid their passion, he could thrust and withdraw as their bodies demanded.

Bobby's head snapped up at the sharp sound of a door slamming shut. It was a big house but he was accustomed to living alone. Noise grabbed his attention. Shaking his head, thinking that the boys were most likely roughhousing again, Bobby turned his attention back to the muffin tin he had been filling. That's when he noticed that the light fixture over the table was swaying back and forth in an increasing arc.

"What the hell is happening here?" Bobby set down the spoon and bowl of batter. Eyes locked on the swaying light, Bobby circled the room. His eyebrows rose in befuddlement. In all his years living in this house, he'd never seen that happen.

Hunter instincts kicked in. Bobby started to consider what supernatural phenomena could be responsible. His senses were now attuned to pick up other clues. He could hear some distant sounds-- sharp little cries, not words, maybe yelps of pain. The thought of Sam and Dean possibly in trouble, under attack, sent Bobby sprinting for the stairs. As he passed the door, he grabbed the shotgun.

Despite his size and age, Bobby could move quick and quiet when the need arose. As he moved up the steps, he could identify some of the sounds-- the steady rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh, sharp cries torn from a human throat. He was convinced that some demon was taking out its vengeance on his boys.

Bobby edged closer. The bedroom door wasn't shut tight. With one hand gripping the shotgun, Bobby pushed the door open just as Dean groaned, "Harder! Deeper! Knot me, Sammy!"

Bobby stood rooted just outside the doorway. He knew now what was making all that noise. The beast with two backs. Not a monster. Not a demon. Just his boys doing what brothers should not. Blushing beet red, mortified beyond the ability to speak, Bobby retreated. Shocked by what he had seen, he had one small consolation. The boys had been too busy with each other to notice him. As quiet as he had come, Bobby slunk back downstairs. He needed a drink. A big one.

After hustling Dean into the bathroom, Sam dressed quickly. Dean wasn't happy with him. In fact he was downright pissed. Knowing that Bobby was waiting breakfast on them, Sam had denied them both the pleasure of a proper knotting. Only his vow to make it up to Dean that night had stemmed his dissatisfaction.

As Sam started down to the kitchen, he allowed himself a self indulgent sigh. It wasn't easy being an Alpha. Rights equaled duty. Privileges, responsibility. But it was more than worth it to be with Dean.

Sam stepped into a kitchen devoid of appetitizing aromas. All the ingredients for a big country breakfast were scattered, abandoned across the countertop. He saw Bobby hunkered down at the kitchen table, clutching a mug with his favorite flask of distilled spirits handy. Sam took stock of the situation. He frowned. His mouth tightened. He knew that Bobby was no tea totaler, but he usually didn't start this early. Something was wrong. Big time. Bobby looked miserable. Absolutely miserable.

Sam cleared his throat, hesitant to intrude. "Bobby? You alright?"

"I expected better of you, Sam." The older man didn't look up. Bobby kept his focus on the mug in his hands. He struggled to put the chaos of his thoughts into words. He downed a long pull of Irish lubricant. Finally, eyes narrowed in anger and disapproval, he turned to his guest. He shook his head. "Don't know whether to punch your face in or take you out to the woodshed and tan your backside."

"Bobby? What did I do?" Sam asked, totally baffled.

"Don't play stupid with me! I tore your dad a new one for what he did to Dean! Why shouldn't I do the same to you!"

Even more confused, Sam repeated, "What I did to Dean?"

"I said don't play stupid!" Bobby jumped to his feet, slamming both hands flat into the table. "I saw you," he nearly choked on the words, "pile driving your brother's ass!" The angry words were rolling now. "I expected you of all the people in this fucked up universe to protect your brother. But you are no better than any of them. Using him like that. He's your brother, Sam! Your brother!"

"Using? No! You got it wrong. I love Dean. And he loves me."

Heavy with sarcasm, Bobby broke in. "Yeah, I got an eyeful just now of your brand of loving. Gonna need to bleach my brain to forget it."

"I'm sorry. We should have been more discreet, more careful. But, Bobby, you need to understand I do love Dean. And he loves me. Alpha and omega. We were made for each other."

"You've been drinking the Kool Aid, kid!" Bobby dismissed his argument.

"Bobby, you know what they did to Dean at that clinic. You know-- I had no choice..."

"Your dad used the same damn line." Bobby said with disdain. He mimicked John's gravelly voice. "It's the law. I had no choice." Bobby threw the half full mug against the far wall. It smashed, splattering dark liquid and pottery shards on the wall and floor. "That man breaks the law six times a day. Probably twice that on Sunday. But this goddamn law he has to obey!"

"Bobby," Sam started again, frustrated and helplessly, "Dean went into heat. He needed an Alpha. What would you have me do? Throw open the door to all comers? Let strangers run a train on his ass?"

"It's better than making your brother your personal fuck toy!"

"Damn it, Bobby! It's not like that! I love Dean! And our baby!"

 

Dean heard the raised voices as he stepped out of the shower. Bobby shouting to make a point wasn't all that unusual. But Sam was different. Sam shouting a reply, that kicked up his interest. Trouble was brewing downstairs. Dean couldn't make out what was being said but the anger came through loud and clear.

Dean toweled off in sixty seconds. He dashed back to their room, jammed his legs into a pair of jeans. He made a beeline for the source of the shouting while doing up the fly.

"A pup! Are you fucking kidding me! I taught you how to take care of crap like that!"

"We want this baby. Dean wants this baby. We're going to get out of the life. Settle down. Have a family."

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed in outrage. "Dean ain't momma material! Why don't you just put a bullet between his eyes?!"

"That's enough." A quiet voice said from the doorway. Both combatants turned. Dean stood there, shirtless and barefoot, radiating hurt and anger. "We'll be packed and gone in fifteen." Dean turned on his heels and marched off. Neither Bobby or Sam saw the tear that tracked down his smooth cheek.

 

"Shit!" Bobby hissed out, his self righteous anger deflating. "I didn't - I don't want you boys to go."

Sam combed his fingers through his hair, trying to get a grip on how to handle this mess. "I doubt that Dean feels welcome if he overheard half of what we said." He dropped his arms. "This hasn't been easy for him, for either of us. This wasn't the way we thought our lives would play out." He stared Bobby in the eye, wanting to be sure he was heard. "But we are making it work. It has been good, really good between us. I didn't force him, Bobby. It was his choice. I swear to you, it was Dean's choice."

"Change ain't easy for any of us. It was wrong of me to judge you. Hell! I was wrong. I'm a Beta. What do I know about Alpha/omega..." Bobby threw his hands up in frustration, "doings. I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not the one you need to convince." Sam pulled in a steadying breath, inhaling the bitter scent of Dean's distress.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving tomorrow to visit my 95 year old Dad, where I will have crappy internet access. I felt guilty leaving Dean hanging in distress again, so here's a short chapter to resolve the latest crises...

Bobby stood outside the door of the back bedroom. By sheer force of will, he refused to think of the last time he had stood in that spot. We watched as Dean moved, stiff backed and hyper-efficient, from the dresser to the bed. His anger was evident in every move as he grabbed fistfuls of clothing and shoved them into the tattered army surplus duffle. Bobby was fairly sure Dean knew he was standing there. Yet he refused to acknowledge his presence. Desperate to break through the Arctic zone, Bobby resorted to knocking on the door frame.

"May I come in?" He asked quietly.

Dean didn't turn. One shoulder rose in a strategically indifferent shrug. "It's your house."

Voice heavy with sadness, Bobby commented, "You used to call my place home."

"Made a mistake. Sue me." With haphazard haste, Dean finished stuffing his bag. He turned away from the bed, pointedly avoiding Bobby, as he moved to the dresser again. He yanked the top drawer out of the case completely, carried it to the bed and dumped its contents. "Should have known better than to unpack."

Bobby winced, hearing the hurt in those quiet words. The kid was good at doling out the guilt.

Dean returned the drawer to the chest and moved to the closet. Three shirts hung from the rod. Jeez, how did these kids live with so little to call their own, Bobby thought, as Dean snatched the hangers and brought them to the bed.

Bobby stepped nearer. He dared to lay a hand on the taut shoulder. Dean shrugged it off. All his concentration was focused on folding Sammy's clothes and packing his bag. He had nothing to say to Bobby. He didn't need anything from Bobby. All he needed was Sam. And their baby. Bobby could go to...

"Dean, I'm sorry!" Bobby started with heartfelt sincerity. "My temper got the best of me. I said things that shouldn't have been said. I really am sorry."

"A man has the right to speak his mind in his own house." Dean countered stubbornly. "Besides what matters is that how you felt. Doesn't matter what was said." Dean faced Bobby, fighting to keep his composure. "It would have been worse if you said nothing and hated us in your heart." Bobby saw that smooth chin quiver, his jaw tightened so much it had to hurt.

"I do not hate you, son!" Bobby exclaimed. He was as frustrated as he'd ever felt in his entire lifetime. "I love you and Sam like my own flesh and blood."

"Love sucks!" Dean shot back, fire in his eyes. "Life sucks! You think Sam and I loving each other is wrong. We disgust you. We don't belong here."

Well, Bobby thought, he had wanted to talk. He supposed that this was progress. Anger was easier to battle than passive rejection. He had his own mix of emotions to deal with. 

"This morning, I was treated to a pretty graphic demo of how you boys go about loving each other." The memory had Bobby blushing again. 

As Dean realized exactly what Bobby was saying, he paled. "You saw us..." He gulped.

"Yup." Bobby snapped, carefully avoiding looking at him. "Got quite an eyeful. Didn't mean to intrude. Thought a demon was doing a number on you. In the future I'd appreciate it if you close the door when you're busy like that. Maybe keep down the volume a bit."

Now it was Dean's turn to blush. The rush of blood made him lightheaded. Dean swayed. Bobby caught him, gripping his upper arms to lower him into a seated position on the edge of the bed. He slipped a supportive arm around the boy's back.

"You ok?"

"Just a little dizzy."

"You should have your blood pressure checked." Bobby advised, his concern evident.

"No thanks. I'm staying as far away from the bastards in white as I can. Don't say anything to Sam either. He worries too much."

"He should worry, with you carrying and all. Your body's been through a lot." Bobby swallowed hard at the thought of just what had been done to Dean. "It ain't that I object to you and Sam being together. You boys are two sides of the same coin. Ain't no separating you. And I'm not against you having a baby." Bobby turned his eyes to heaven, praying he was saying this right. "This is all real sudden. It's a lot for me to wrap my brain around."

Dean managed a bitter laugh. "You and me both. You should try it from my shoes!" Dean bent forward, resting his elbows on his spread knees. He sighed. "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy." He confessed in a whisper. "But there's no going back. I can scream and cuss til I'm blue in the face, but it won't change a thing." Tears slipped silently down his cheeks. "The bastard cut off my balls, Bobby! Made into what I am now. I almost took that bullet. I thought about it. God, help me, I did." He scrubbed the wetness from his cheeks. "But I couldnt do that to Sam. He and I---I had to find a way to live like this. Try to find the good in it." Dean shifted to look at this man he loved like a father. "I chose to live, Bobby. I chose Sam. Was I wrong?"

Bobby brushed a calloused hand over the cropped hair. "Of course not, son. Life is always the right choice." Feeling no resistance, he drew Dean's head down to rest against his fannel clad shoulder. "And you boys were right to come here. Family is more than blood. You will always be my boys. This will always be home for you and Sam."

Dean leaned into the comfort. His battered soul needed it more than ever before. After a bit he managed a small smile. "Sam's been real good to me. Patient. Gentle. He's stuck with me through the worst of it. When even Dad deserted me." Dean felt the sudden tension in Bobby's arms but misinterpreted it. "Don't be mad at Sam. He's been great. And I love him, Bobby. I think I always have. I was just waiting, biding my time until he grew up and was ready for me." Dean gave a genuine laugh. "Of course, I thought I'd be on the other side of the knot then! I was so sure Sam would present as a omega. Shows you what I know!" Dean pulled back to look Bobby in the eye. "But we've worked it out. We have. And it's good."

"Yeah, I can see that. You two were always meant to be a pair. Don't know why it came as such a shock to me."

"Well," Dean began with mischief lighting his eyes. "Catching us 'a flagrante' couldn't have helped your appetite." As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly. "Little Squiggle wants breakfast."

"Little Squiggle?" Bobby's tone was laced with amusement and curiosity.

"The baby. My baby. He's not an 'it'. He's not a pup." Dean stated firmly, one hand resting on his abdomen. "Our baby."

Bobby's face split into a stupid grin. "We're gonna have a baby! Imagine that!" He rose with a grunt, pulling Dean to feet as well. "You can unpack your stuff later. Let's get some food! Squiggle's hungry!" 

Side by side they headed downstairs. Hopefully Sam had made himself useful finishing the breakfast preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else notice that the chapter count is off by one? Any ideas how to fix this? Any idea how I screwed that up? It seems to be automatic...


	29. Chapter 29

They settled into a domestic routine with surprising ease. Household chores were shared, rotated. Dean refused to be treated as an invalid just because he was pregnant. He did his turn at laundry, cleaning and general housekeeping. Cooking turned out to be more problematic. Bobby favored hearty meals- meat and potatoes, stews and such. Sam, of course, preferred vegan meals or salads. Dean's tastes ran toward diner foods, anything fried or greasy. When Dean served a dinner of fried bologna sandwiches garnished with generous dollops of ketchup with a side of root beer floats, both Sam and Bobby objected vehemently. Sam questioned the nutritional value. Bobby wondered about his taste buds and overall sanity, particularly when Dean equated the root beer to rutabaga. When Dean argued that it was a perfect food as it was both a vegetable and dairy product combined, the other men rolled their eyes to the heavens and volunteered to cook more often.

Sam dialed the number Charlie had given him. After a few introductory questions he was assigned a basic hack job into a retail security system. When he completed the task in less than ten minutes. He was assigned another. Sam knew that his abilities were being tested and evaluated. He was wiling to play the game, finding the weaknesses in each Internet site, particularly when his banking account grew with each successful assignment.

Dean showed Bobby the contacts he had made at the auto show. Bobby had never considered the salvage yard as anything more than a good cover for his hunting activities, in particular, hiding bodies.. If Dean could actually make money off the junked cars heaped in the yard, Bobby was all for the idea. The first order of business was to set Dean up with a workshop in one of the garages. Once that was accomplished, Dean devoted many hours to inventorying what vehicles were available to scrounge parts from. He sent prices via email to his contacts. All three men were delighted when the orders started coming in.

Although he delayed it as long as possible, Sam did his civic duty by reporting to the Omega Protective Services office in downtown Sioux Falls. There he filled out the paperwork to register Dean as a carrying omega in residence. With suitable editing and revision he even turned in the packet of documents Officer Mills had provided. He hoped that the medical tests included would not need to be repeated thus sparing Dean that trauma. As expected, an appointment for a prenatal checkup was scheduled soon after Sam's visit.

Dean grew more tense, more nervous as that day approached. His obvious distress confused and concerned Bobby. When he cornered Sam, demanding an explanation, Sam shared a description of the appointment in West Mont with Dr. Hendrickson. It was a relief to be able to share the burden and garner Bobby's valuable insight.

"Nah, I don't think it was subspace that Dean went into there." Bobby countered when Sam described the trance in which Dean had been. "From what I've read that only happens in established relationships where control is willingly surrendered to a trusted dominant. And it's supposed to be pleasant." Bobby scratched at his beard as he considered the possibilities. "What you describe sounds more like a fugue state. A defense mechanism. An out of body experience to get through a trauma. It might work for the run of the mill tests and such, but what about labor and delivery? He can't just shut down mentally for that. He'll have to work with the doctors to push out that baby."

Sam chewed on his lower lip having no ready answer. This fugue, escape mechanism or whatever it was didn't sound healthy by any stretch of his imagination. He didn't want Dean to suffer like that over and over again. Having a baby should be an memorable but pleasant experience. More worried than ever, Sam offered the only hope he could muster. "Maybe if Dean gets to know this doctor, he'll grow to trust him."

"Maybe. Might be better if he saw a private doctor, instead of one of these government issue sadists who only see our boy as a puppy mill."

"Do you know a good om-OB?" 

"Never had cause to look for one. Until now. I'll ask around. Do some research." Bobby offered, trying to sound encouraging.

"And in the meantime, we have to keep this appointment to stay in the OPS' good graces."

 

Sam had already checked the garage designated as Dean's workshop. There had been no sign of his mate. Sam wasn't surprised. Dean was very good at avoiding unpleasant situations when he chose to do so. If it weren't for the seriousness of the consequences, Sam might have found this hide and seek game amusing. Now he was just getting royally pissed. Dean had to know he didn't want to do this either. It was ridiculous, Sam fumed, as he searched through the oldest section of the junk yard. He wasn't the bad guy. He hated being cast in the role of enforcer. He and Dean were supposed to be a team. If they worked together they could get through anything. Hell they had faced monsters and demons and survived! They could get through this.

Of course, to be fair, his position was easier to accept. It wasn't his body being stripped and displayed. He wasn't the one being talked over and about like an unintelligent animal. That realization drained Sam's anger at his brother. He refocused his anger at the medical personnel who made these exams a traumatic event rather than the reassuring, nurturing experience that a new parent needed. Sam and Bobby had devoted some time to research and brainstorming. They hadn't found a private doctor - yet. But they had worked out a couples of ways to take some of the sting out of the required exams. It wouldn't be perfect. For now, they would have to settle for better.

 

When Sam finally tracked Dean down, he heard him before he saw him.

"Fucking piece of shit!" A series of frustrated metal on metal bangs split the chilly autumn air. Sam moved quickly, zeroing in on the source of the noise. As he had expected, he found Dean bent under the hood of an ancient Studebaker.

"Is that the kind of language a loving parent should be using?" 

"Ain't doing diaper duty yet." Dean replied, still buried in the bowels of the wreck. "Kid is in a soundproof booth." Dean straighten slowly to face his mate. He winced at the ache in his back but said nothing. If he complained about every ache and pain, he's never shut up. Pregnancy was a bitch.

"Actually, he's not." Sam countered as he stepped closer. One big hand went behind Dean to massage the small of his back, his other hand settled on the distinct bump hidden under Dean's baggy denim coveralls. "The baby hears your heartbeat every second of every day. He can hear our voices." Sam's hand moved in a gentle caress. "Soon you might notice he moves. Maybe in response to your voice or music. It won't feel like much. Just a little flutter. He's still too small for a real kick."

Dean's brows shot up, his grease smeared jaw went slack. "Is that what I've been feeling? The kid moving? I thought it was just gas."

"You've felt the baby move?" Dean heard the note of hurt in the deep voice. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Dean shrugged, "Sorry. Like I said, I thought it was just gas. Been tooting a lot lately. I don't generally make a habit of announcing when a fart is working its way out." To punctuate his confession, Dean broke wind. At the same moment, a tiny cartwheel happened in his belly. "Did you feel that?" He gasped, positioning Sam's hand over the movement. 

"No." Sam answered, his voice thick with disappointment. "But I certainly smell it." He wrinkled his nose to demonstrate his distaste. "The baby still too small for me to feel it." Sam sighed. "I envy you. I always thought it would be my body growing our baby."

Dean leaned into the long lean body. Strong arms encircled him. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I honestly don't know if I'd trade places with you if I could. This is still way weird to me but it's also special- there's a miracle happening inside me."

Sam tipped Dean's head back to claim a kiss. It wouldn't take much encouragement to let nature take its course. Dean was soft and eager in his arms. The first wisps of arousal, Alpha and omega drifted on the light breeze. Summoning all his strength of will, Sam pulled back. Unfortunately this was neither the time or place to give into nature's demands.

'We can't do this now." Sam whispered, between kisses. "Got an appointment downtown. Remember?"

Dean leaned heavily into that strength, wishing he could hid forever in Sam's arms. "Not something I'm likely to forget."

"You need to clean up." Sam brushed his thumb over the smudge on Dean's jawline. "While you get dressed I'll fill you in on what Bobby and I have come up with on the local om-OB." They turned, arms locked around each other's waists, heading back to the house. "His name is Doctor Marvin Metatron. And he's a Beta..."


	30. Chapter 30

Dean was through with being the helpless victim. Yeah, it was true, he was a omega now. He wasn't a hunter or an Alpha anymore. That it didn't mean he had to take all the shit the world was dealing him. With Sam's support, he could have a measure of dignity. Sammy said so. And Sammy knew everything. With that thought firmly in mind, Dean prepared for his doctor's appointment.

He wasn't sure what exactly to expect with this new doctor. Sam and Bobby had done some research. Made some preparations. Dean knew his name, Doctor Marvin Metatron. He was a Beta. That fact was in Dean's favor. No Alpha command voice to make the omega in him drop to his knees in submission. No Alpha pheromones to get his juices flowing. He could handle this. They could handle this. With Sam at his side, he could get through this appointment. Together they could do it. Sammy said so.

"Not much of a fashion statement." Dean groused as he tied the last of the gown's string ties. "Not much cover." His hands skimmed over his rounding belly to his hips, down to where the fabric ended at his mid- thighs. "But it's a hell of a lot better than nothing." He finished with forced confidence.

"Ready to meet Doctor Metatron?" Sam asked, draping one of the sterile sheets he'd brought around Dean's shoulders for warmth as much as additional cover. He held another sheet for Dean's lower body when he was in position on the exam table. Providing cover for an omega was permissible, if somewhat unorthodox. Sam knew he might be guilty of overdoing it but he didn't give a flying fuck about that. His goal was to get Dean through this exam with the least amount of trauma possible. "Ready?" Sam repeated, squeezing Dean's hand.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Dean answered, battling back his nervousness. He brought their joined hands to his lips just as the nurse re-entered. She gave his draped body an amused glance accented by a slight shake of her greying head. She had no comment but set to work. All business, she weighed Dean, then directed him to sit on the side of the exam table. She took his temperature, blood pressure and pulse, noting the results on the chart she carried. She opened a drawer of the table, extracting a small specimen cup and a sealed packet. Without preamble she flipped up the gown and reached between Dean's legs.

"Hold it!" Sam ordered, "What are you doing?"

The nurse eyed him coldly, "A urine sample is required." She produced the packaged catheter to illustrate her point.

"Dean can pee in a cup without shoving a tube up his cock." Sam protested.

"Catheterization provides an uncontaminated specimen. And I don't have to clean up any messes. It has been my experience that omegas are barely housebroken."

Dean glowered at the woman. Sam stepped between his mate and the nurse. His size forced her back one step then two. He took the cup from the woman. One steely eyed look settled the issue. Sam handed Dean the specimen cup, and used his body to provide privacy while Dean produced the sample. Dean returned the sealed cup to Sam who passed it on to the nurse.

"Are you going to draw the blood sample too?" She asked sarcastically. 

"No," Sam began, trying to diffuse the situation. "I don't intend to stop you from doing your job. However I prefer that you and Doctor Metatron be considerate of my omega's feelings and respectful of his body."

"Of course! And we'll play Patty Cake and Ring around the Rosie, too." The nurse snarked back at him as she picked up a phlebotomy kit. "Step aside, Alpha, let me do my job."

"You will be respectful and considerate." Sam repeated, staring the woman down. Sam stood his ground. It was his job to protect Dean. The nurse had nothing personal to loose here. Sam did. It took a few long minutes but finally the nurse did back down. She gave a small nod of concession. Sam stepped aside.

With practiced ease she wrapped the tourniquet around Dean's bicep. She adjusted the angle of his arm, and administered several sharp pats to the inside of his elbow to raise the veins beneath the pale skin. Without a word she brought the syringe into position. 

Dean felt the pinch of the needle as it pierced his skin. He didn't flinch. He'd felt worse pain. Hell, he hadn't even been ten years old, the first time Dad had drawn a knife across his palm when they needed the blood of a virgin to work a spell. The nurse loosened the tubing binding his upper arm. Dean watched dispassionately as the venipuncture filled one vacuum vial, then a second, then another and another. He'd seen blood before, lots of blood. As the fifth vial filled, Dean raised an eyebrow. "You gonna drain me dry, Vampira?" He drawled.

"The average omega has 5.5 liters of blood. Fifty cc's won't be missed." She actually smiled at him as she loaded another vial into the holder. "And a carrying om has 30 to 50% more blood supply to provide for the pup." She set the final vial aside. The needle came out painlessly. The nurse pressed a wad of sterile gauze to the puncture. "Hold that." She instructed as she bent Dean's arm. "Keep pressure on it." After a bit she applied a bandage over the gauze. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it, Sweetie?

"No, ma'am." Dean answered with a shy smile and a glance from beneath a flutter of his eyelashes . "Not with your gentle touch. Thank you."

The nurse returned the smile with a blush. She seemed flustered as she realized she was actually conversing with an omega. Hurriedly she gathered her supplies, the chart and the filled vials. "The doctor will be in shortly." She said in parting.

Sam watched the door close with a baffled grin. "Now I've seen it all. Really, Dean, flirting with a woman in front of your Alpha! What am I going to do with you?"

"You told me not to let them walk all over me. I figured, you use the ammo you've got. Wasn't sure it would work..."

"De, you've got sex appeal that goes beyond pheromones and this Alpha/omega connection. She'd have to be blind not to see it." Sam cupped his chin, raising that lush mouth to the proper angle for his kiss. "I can certainly attest to your appeal."

 

The door opened as their lips met.

"Well, well what do we have here? Can I play too?" a swarmy voice broke into their quiet interlude. 

Sam stiffened. His head rose, breaking their kiss. He turned slowly to regard the intruder. His eyes narrowed as he studied the scruffy, bearded man in the doorway. Marvin Metraton was far from an impressive individual. His salt and pepper hair was a riot of disordered curls that looked to be in dire need of a shampoo. His face was pastey white with blood shot, baggy dark eyes. He was short, really short. A fact that the rumpled, ill fitting lab coat that hung below his knees emphasized dramatically. He was not a man that inspired confidence. He was, in fact, as far from the stereotypical doctor as a person could imagine. But he was the doctor they would be dealing with today. Sam set aside his misgivings to face the now.

"Doctor Metatron, I'm Sam Winchester." Sam began hoping for the best. The doctor stepped forward to shake Sam's hand. "And this is my brother, Dean."

"My, my! What a pretty little thing." The doctor smirked, eyeing Dean, seated before him on the exam table.. "But why is it playing dress up?" He flicked his fingers at the gown Dean was wearing. "This is hardly flattering and the best parts are hidden!" He pouted. He skimmed a careless hand over the gown covered chest. 

Dean reacted with nearly forgotten instincts. He seized the offending hand with a firm grip on the wrist. "Don't touch me!" 

The look of shock on the man's face was comical. He snapped his gaping mouth shut, blinking big rhuemy eyes at first Dean, then Sam. "A feisty, little thing!" The doctor crowed with forced good cheer. "Mr Winchester, you must work on discipline. Even a carrying omega must be properly disciplined."

"Dean's behavior is my concern. And so is yours, Doctor. I expect my brother to be treated with dignity. He is your patient. Not your plaything. Not a pet. I expect him to be treated with respect and consideration. I'll be watching carefully."

"Really?" Metatron asked, bushy eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Are you threatening me?"

"No, sir." Sam responded, trying to project the proper deference to this weasel of a man. "I simply wanted to clarify the situation..

"I see," The little man began haughtily, straightening his white coat. "You may be the Alpha in the room, Winchester, but I am the Doctor. I call the shots at this clinic. We've wasted enough time. Om! Assume the position. Let's get this exam started."

Dean cast an uneasy glance to Sam. He didn't like this scruffy little Beta. And he certainly didn't trust him. But he trusted Sam. At Sam's nod, Dean laid back on the table. Sam was at his side, he spread the last sheet over Dean's legs and hips. Dean managed a small smile as a show of his appreciation. Sam would keep him safe. Dean kept that thought, that promise firmly in his mind. It was his anchor. It would see him through this latest ordeal.

The doctor stared down at him with disapproval. "This garment," he began with a condescending sneer, "These drapings do nothing but complicate my examination."

"On the contrary, they keep Dean warm while maintaining a modicum of dignity. Doctors have worked around such considerations for centuries."

Metatron hid his objections by perusing the om's file that the nurse had given him. "At this om's previous checkup, Doctor Hendriksen noted bilateral rigidity of the pectoral muscles. He recommended continued monitoring. How can I examine the mammaries if I can't even see the chest?" He exclaimed in frustration. 

"Dean," Sam spoke gently, "I'm going to uncover your chest so that the doctor can examine you." When Dean nodded stiffly, Sam undid the ties at his neck and folded back the gown. Sam moved aside, but stayed near. He allowed the doctor to approach the exam table.

Dr. Metatron eyed the big Alpha cautiously. Protectiveness of a carrying omega wasn't unheard of, but this big galoot was taking it to the extreme! It was wise to be cautious while he continued to evaluate this situation. 

"I need to palpitate the pectoral majoris to determine the degree of muscle tone and the glandular development."

Dean bit back his objection. He gave a small stiff nod of assent. Sam smiled down at him, conveying his pride and support. "Go ahead." Sam conceded.

The Doctor rolled his eyes in outrage. Just who did they think was in charge here! Taking orders from a hairy ape of an Alpha was bad enough. But now he needed a damn omega's permission to touch it. This was absurd. Ridiculous! If he were an Alpha, they would never dare pull such crap. As a Beta, he had had to fight all his life to be given the respect he was due. Fight to prove his intelligence. Fight to go to college rather than technical training. Fight to get into med school. Only to end up in this backwoods om-OB clinic! It wasn't fair. He deserved better! 

The local omega services board hadn't even wanted to hire him despite his outstanding academics and satisfactory residency review. The local administrator had objected that a Beta could not handle this assignment. Maybe, he thought, chewing one corner of his lower lip, maybe this was an elaborate trick, a test. He had lost a carrier last month. It wasn't his fault the om had stroked out in delivery. He had warned its Alphas that there were indications of preeclampsia. He had recommended a surgical delivery. The Alphas had declined. They were lucky that he had managed to save the pup!

If this was a test, he would show them just what kind of a doctor Marvin Metatron was. Textbook procedures. He would show them!

Starting at the right breast, he placed flat fingertips at the 12 o'clock position. Methodically he moved in a small circle, completing one he moved 15 degrees clockwise and repeated the circle. No hurry. Twenty four precise circles with his fingertips pressing lightly into the flesh. He detected no masses, no lumps or no evidence of inflammation. A twentfifth circle was made over the puffy rose brown nipple. It contracted at his touch, rising to an inviting nub. Very nice. Fully functional. He brought both hands up, positioning them on either side of the nipple. Cupping the muscle he tested the resiliency of the tissue. There was a nice 'bounce,' adequate give. Lactation should be sufficient to provide for a pup. Satisfied he repeated the entire process on the left breast.

"The mammary glands are showing adequate development." Metatron stated as he scribbled a notation in Dean's medical file. "Given that this is the om's first gestation. Engorgement, of course, will be more significant as delivery nears. Surgically altered omegas are often late bloomers. At this time, I don't see any need to excise the pectoral muscles to facilitate lactation."

"What does that mean? 'Excising the pectoral muscles'?" Sam had to know, in case it became an issue in the future.

The doctor shrugged, offhandedly. "It's a simple outpatient procedure. A laser targets small strategic sections of the muscle." He ran his index fingers in exaggerated crescents from the armpits around, several inches below Dean's nipples. "The lasered tissue dies, weakening the chest wall. The mammary ducts can then fully engorge, making the breasts more prominent. If you are interested in breast augmentation, I can refer you to several specialists. Your omega doesn't qualify for a government financed procedure. But any of these doctors could increase...."

"No!" Sam interrupted. "That won't be necessary. I prefer Dean in his natural state."

"If you change your mind, it's best to do the procedure before the start of the third trimester. It is essential that the breasts have adequate time to heal before pups starts suckling. Any more questions? No? Fine then let's continue this exam. Butt down to the end of the table. Feet in the stirrups."


	31. Chapter 31

Doctor Metatron stepped back slightly to allow the Alpha to position his omega for the next part of the examination. Sam made quick work of covering Dean's chest and securing the upper portion of the gown. He cupped Dean's cheek, staring into those incredibly intriguing eyes, "You ok?" He asked in a quiet private voice.

"I'm good." Dean whispered in reply. "Don't worry so much."

Sam managed a crooked smile of encouragement. "Let me help you. Scoot down." Sam kept the sheet in place as Dean shifted into position. Gently he guided the spread legs into the stirrups. The chill of the metal sent a small stab of sympathy through Sam. He gripped Dean's hands. "I'm right here. No one is going to hurt you." He vowed.

"Excuse me," Metatron broke in, his tone annoyingly nasal and demanding. "May I finish this examination?"

Sam stepped to the head of the table while maintaining his hold on Dean. The Doctor sighed elaborately as he reclaimed his place at the om's side. Really, he thought, such strum and drang! What would whelping be like with this pair! He for one, didn't need this drama! Then he recalled the possibility that this all could be a test by the State Board. He summoned all his patience as he lifted the gown, baring the om's rounded belly. He placed a gentle hand on each side of the pup paunch. The omega shuddered at his touch. His lip curled. The bulging eyes narrowed. Were they being deliberately insulting? Or were these two so dimwitted they didn't realize he had feelings, too? Well it didn't matter. He didn't need or want their friendship. A little more respect would have been appreciated but he was accustomed to being dismissed because he was a Beta. It didn't matter to him, really it didn't. He would just do his job.

Metatron skimmed his hands over the firm abdomen, pressing more firmly here and there. "Hmmm." He murmured, studying the prominence of the belly. He retrieved the om's chart to confirm his memory. "Hmmm." He repeated, deep in thought. 

"Is there a problem?" Sam asked anxiously. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing definitive. At least not yet. Gestational age is calculated to be fifteen weeks. Nearing the end of the first trimester. But the pup is unusually pronounced because the pelvic girdle is quite narrow. Has the om been whining about of aches or pains?"

"Dean isn't one to complain. And you should ask him about how he's feeling."

"Mr. Winchester, we generally find the Alphas are more reliable reporting their oms' condition. Less hyperbole. Less hystronics. More accuracy. For future checkups, please keep that in mind."

Sam bit back the argument he wanted to make in the face of such idiocracy. "Dean, have you been having aches or pains?"

"Some. Back hurts mostly. Everything's kinda achy. I figured that was normal when you're preggers."

"Essentially correct. Among the hormones, a carrier produces is relaxin. It readies the body for gestation and whelping. The pelvic joints loosen, ligaments stretch, the hips widen making room for the pup to grow and to facilitate a natural whelping. This omega, however, is exhibiting an unusually narrow pelvis. Before the omegatization surgery was your brother physically active, perhaps into bodybuilding or cross training?"

"Our father emphasized physical fitness. Among other things, he trained us in the martial arts."

"That could explain it. The core muscle development is impeding the natural progression. We may have to take drastic steps to correct the problem."

"What kind of steps?" Sam demanded, pretty sure that neither he or Dean wouldn't like the answer.

"The most direct would be fracturing the pelvis, surgically expanding the bone structure with stainless steel plates and screws." Metatron made no notice of their horrified expressions. "Of course, that has its own risks and complications. We could wait to see if your omega 'catches up' so to speak, but remedial action becomes more risky and more difficult as the gestation progresses."

"There must be something less drastic that can be done." Sam insisted, concerned that Dean had gone pale beneath his freckles. "What are the consequences if we do nothing?"

"That would not be advisable." The hang dog look was back full force. "The consequences can be severe. Premature whelping. A malformed pup. Om spinal complications. Surgical delivery. At the very least, an episiotomy. Are those sufficient consequences, for you to take my advice?" His voice was heavy with indignation. "I may be only a Beta but I am a qualified obstetrician."

Metatron snapped on a pair of latex gloves as he moved around between the stirrupped legs. Without warning, he fingered Dean's omega channel. "How often is it knotted each day?" The doctor inquired as he lifted the limp penis out of the way. He traced the faint scar of the castration. The omega flinched at even that gentle touch. "It's essential that the channel of an altered omega be routinely opened. Particularly as whelping becomes more imminent."

Sam blushed beet red, caught off guard with the directness of the question. One eyebrow winged upward as he stammered his response. "We- I- we have ss- make love often. Four to five time a week, I guess."

"Tsk! Not nearly enough." He inserted two fingers into the channel, scissoring the digits to test the resilience of the passage. The om gasped, biting its lower lip with it's pretty eyes squeezed tightly closed. "What about its other Alphas?"

"I'm Dean's only Alpha."

"Really! How convenient for you. Exclusivity is, of course, your perogative. However it is undoubtedly the underlying cause of this omega's slow development. Daily, if not more frequent knottings, stimulate the endocrine system which in turn produces more relaxin, which as we have already discussed, widens the pelvic structure." He withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the gown's hem. "Before I prescribe a remedial fracture, we could try a less invasive means. Dialation plugs. A graduated set used diligently might rectify the problem.

Sam bent lower to consult Dean. "What do you think? Is that okay with you?"

"Mr. Winchester, I realize you are young Alpha but allowing your omega a voice in such major decision is ill advised. It is not capable of reasoning beyond the immediate here and now."

"I didn't ask you!" Sam snapped. "Dean?"

"We have to do what's necessary to make our baby safe."

"How touching! Now that we have the omega's stamp of approval" the sarcastic remark was punctuated by an exaggerated eye roll to the heavens. "If we could finish this exam. Finally. Before anything else is discussed, it has yet to be determined if this is a viable gestation."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, not liking the sound of that and fearing the worst.

"This is your omega's first gestation, the first breeding of your Alpha/omega pairing. Standard procedure at 15-20 weeks is to test for chromosomal abnormalities or congenital defects in the pup. If there are problems, the gestation will be terminated, of course. Why waste an entire breeding cycle to bring defective goods into the market, right? Don't worry in a matter of weeks, the omega will go into heat again and be available for another breeding. If subsequent pups are also defective your omega could be impounded and reassigned."

"Sammy!"

"It will be ok, Dean. The baby is fine."

"The om's may take your word, the government requires proof." Metatron groused, as he flipped a series of switches to activate a machine. Sam recognized the machine. An ultrasound was nothing to be afraid of. He watched as the doctor squeezed a generous dollop of lubricating gel onto Dean's belly. 

Metatron took a wide paddle shaped device, not an internal wand like the last time Sam realized with relief. The doctor positioned the transducer against Dean's abdomen and began the scan. A grainy image appeared on the screen, shifting as the doctor moved the device. "Ah there we are, the pup is curled into a tight little ball. Looks good. Keep still now." He did a quick wash of betadine across the om's lower abdomen. Dean obeyed, forcing himself not to shiver despite the cold liquids on his warm flesh. "Stay very still." Concentrating on the screen's image, Metatron lifted a large hyperdermic syringe from the tray and brought it up, positioning it at the center of the orange dyed skin. 

"What are you doing?!" Sam demanded, horrified to see the instrument poised over his vulnerable mate. He didn't dare intervene, realizing that if he did the huge needle might puncture a vital organ or injure their baby

"Calm yourself, Mr. Winchester,' the Doctor was only marginally aware of the Alpha's distress, he was concentrating on the task at hand. "Don't move." He mouthed as he pushed the six inch needle into the taut abdomen. He paid no heed to the omega's gasp or the flesh shuddering beneath his fingers. He maintained his focus as he applied just enough pressure to push the needle deeper, enough to penetrate the muscular uterine wall. "Almost there." He murmured more to himself than any one else. His eyes never left the screen displaying the baby's image and the advancing needle. "There! Excellent!" He drew back on the syringe, filling the vial with the required volume of amniotic fluid. Satisfied, he deftly withdrew the needle. He placed the syringe aside. "There that wasn't so bad." He soothed as he applied a bandage over the puncture. 

Metatron smiled with self satisfaction. "Your turn, Mr. Winchester. Just a quick blood draw from you and we will be done here." Metatron advanced on him. "Why do you need a blood sample from me?" Sam asked as the doctor wrapped the tourniquet around his upper arm. "The required chromosome analysis. Scanning for congenital defects. Verification of paternity. I've explained this all already." Metatron said impatiently, as he inserted the hyperdermic needle into the vein. "As a bonus, you'll learn the pup's sex. That helps some Alphas decide if they want to offer the pup for sale or keep it." He drew the necessary sample and withdrew the needle. "We have no intention of selling Dean's baby, our baby!" "Many Alphas say that until they have evidence the pup isn't theirs. Especially ones who opt for exclusivity. You guys can be unreasonably possessive." The doctor added with a shrug as he slapped a bandage on the Alpha's inner elbow. "See my nurse on your way out. She'll have a dialation kit for you with instructions. Contact the clinic if you have questions. And schedule your next examination" the doctor heaved a weary sigh. He didn't look forward to dealing with this undisciplined pair to the conclusion of this gestation. "For one month from today. And" he added as spur of the moment inspiration stuck "Ask my nurse for a pamphlet on the new midwife program the university is sponsoring." Metatron's grin grew as he congratulated himself on that brilliant move. At the very least, the referral to the university's new program should earn him a couple of points from the Omega Services board. And maybe, just maybe, this annoying pair would opt for alternative services.


	32. Chapter 32

The slam of the front door announced the return of his boys. The tangle of angry voices that followed told him the doctor's visit probably hadn't gone well

"Aaw, hell..." Bobby muttered to himself. He rose from his desk headed toward the eruption of noise. He had been researching omega pregnancy. That would have to wait. His boys were at it again. Some things never changed. Bobby figured it was time to knock some heads together. Just like old times.

Bobby arrived in time to catch Dean's flight upstairs. In utter frustration Sam slammed both fists into the newel post.

"Take it easy on the house, son." Bobby drawled, inserting himself into the drama. "It's an innocent bystander. Not to mention it's older than all three of us put together." Bobby huffed out a breath of exasperation. "What's the problem now?"

"Dean won't listen to reason!" Sam shouted, pitching his words to carry up the stairwell for his brother's benefit. He turned to face Bobby, dismay straining his handsome features. "He wants to leave! To run! He..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. Why does he want to leave?"

Sam dragged both hands through his shaggy hair, trying to grasp what he didn't understand himself. He flung his arms wide trying to throw off his frustration. "The doctor was a real asshole. Big on self importance. Short on bedside manner, big time. He threatened Dean. He threatened the baby." It was a relief to be able to share this burden with Bobby. "Dean is scared. He thinks the only safe course is to run, to go underground. But we can't. It's not just us. It's the baby. He'll need a doctor when the time comes..."

"Wait a damn minute. How did this son of a bitch threaten him? With what?"

"There was this test. Jeesuz, Bobby, the bastard stuck this big long needle in Dean's belly. No warning. No painkillers. It must have hurt him." It pained Sam to remember how he had failed to protect his mate. "Shit, it all happened so fast. I wanted to stop him but I was afraid if I tried, he'd really hurt Dean or the baby!" Overwhelmed by reliving the event, Sam covered his face, scrubbing at his scruff of a beard as if we could clear the image of that needle sinking into Dean's flesh. "The doctor sucked out some fluid in the syringe. He said that it would be tested for chromosome defects. Dean is sure that he is going to kill the baby. That's why he's planning to run away. As far and as fast as he can." 

"Dean's scared." Bobby began, eyes narrowing as he thought through the situation. "He's got every right to be. Heaven knows the boy's got no reason to trust these doctors. And it's his job to protect that new life growing inside him. Add to that the hormones flooding his system, it's no wonder, our boy can't think straight. We need to cut him some slack."

"But he's up there packing right now. He's running..."

"Ah, hell, I'll talk to him. He'll calm down and see reason. Now you find something useful to do. Don't sit there stewing in your own juices." 

 

It seemed like deja vu all over again, Bobby thought as he approached the back bedroom Sam and Dean shared. The door stood wide open. He could see Dean moving busily between the dresser and the bed where his duffle bag sat waiting to be filled.

"You planning on making a habit of this, son?"

Dean spared him one sharp glance but he continued his packing. Green eyes were huge in the pale drawn face. Bobby saw the fear, the cutting edge of panic. This wasn't the cool, calculated hunter that he'd watch grow up. Dean had more the look of an animal caught in a trap. Fight or flight was in full effect. With the system stacked against him Dean couldn't fight. Flight was his only option. Or so it would seem to him.

Bobby was having none of it.

"Dean! Stop!" Bobby ordered, stepping into the room. "You need to calm down. We need to talk."

"Can't!" Dean shoved the clothes he held into the bag and zipped it closed. "Got to go!" He hefted the bag, slinging one strap over his shoulder as he turned for the door.

Bobby blocked his path. "Talk to me, son." He shifted to keep between Dean and the door. "I know you're scared for the baby. I know you think you're doing what's best. But, Dean, you're not thinking clearly. You're running scared. You don't have a plan. I'm betting you don't even know where you're going."

"Somewhere. Anywhere. As far away from here as I can get." Dean looked around, desperation drawing his features even tighter. This place, Bobby's place had always been a safe haven for him. It was a refuge. But now...

"Talk to me." Bobby pleaded. "Just for a minute. Please, son, I can't let you leave like this. You can give me five minutes. Just five minutes. Come on, kid. You owe me that."

Dean met his stare straight on. The smooth chin firmed, jaws clenched, he nodded and swung his duffle off his shoulder. "You want to talk, talk. You got five minutes."

"Let's sit down. Okay?" Bobby moved cautiously to the foot of the bed. He trusted Dean that he had a brief reprieve to try to talk sense into him. He didn't think the boy would bolt but you never knew what someone in a panic might do. "Come on. Take a deep breath. Relax a bit. And sit down." He coaxed gesturing toward the head of the bed. "You look like you're going to stroke out any minute. I bet your blood pressure is sky high. All this stress can't be good for li'l Squiggle."

Dean eyed him suspiciously but he took that deep breath. Then another. "Five minutes." He conceded, dropping his bag purposefully in the open doorway. He was leary of a trap. He trusted Bobby but the man might try to stop him if he thought it was for his own good. Slowly Dean moved toward the bed. His eyes fixed on the open door, he perched on the edge of the mattress.

Bobby scratched the back of his neck, stalling for time. Be thankful for small victories, he told himself as he tried to decide how to proceed. "Sam told me a bit about the exam. He said that that asshat of a doctor stuck you with a big needle. Are you okay?"

Reflexively, Dean's hand came up to gently touch his baby bump. "I think I'm okay." He answered, showing some doubt and a lot of confusion. It was just hard to think clearly with all this adrenaline pumping through his system. "Hurts a little." He shrugged off the pain. "I've had worse."

Bobby didn't doubt that for a minute. He'd patched up Dean after a few fights, seen the scars from hunts that got dicey. Dean was a tough kid, not a lily livered whiner. No doubt about that. 

"That's good." Bobby confirmed, thinking hard to find his next move. "This test, when will you get the results?"

Dean shot a quick look at Bobby, his eyes bright with fear. "I- I don't know." He admitted. "I think--I think the nurse told Sammy. I just wanted to get out of there. To get as far away as I could, as fast as I could." He dropped his head, ashamed of his gut reaction. "I think she said a week, maybe two." Both hands were spread protectively over his belly. "She said Sam would get a letter if there was a problem. It would tell him when to bring me in again. Otherwise we're supposed to comeback in four weeks."

"That's good." Bobby praised, easing back on the mattress to a more comfortable position. "Then we've got at least a week to plan."

"It could be a trick." Dean's attention was riveted on the door again. "They could come take me without any warning."

"They might. But I kind of doubt it." Bobby conceded. "Remember you're not the only omega they've got to mess with. I've been studying up on the policies and procedures of the Omega Services agency. There is a guideline for gestation exams. It's my fault that I didn't warn you about that test. It's called amniocentesis, by the way. I didn't think the doctor was likely to do the test at this appointment since you are only at 15 weeks. The guide says it should be done no earlier than 15 weeks, no later than 20 weeks." Bobby was pleased that Dean was listening, that his tension seemed to be easing. "The fluid he extracted contains cells from the baby. The lab will analyze those cells for any abnormalities. Did you know that statistically less than 4% of the fetuses have congenital problems. Omegas overall are a pretty healthy group. So the odds are good that your baby is fine."

A wave of relief passed through Dean. He trusted Bobby. Bobby, like Sam studied things. He knew things. Important things. But Bobby hadn't been in that exam room. "Doctor Metatron didn't like me. He was pissed that Sam was standing up for me."

"If the test reveals a problem, the results are reviewed by a panel of doctors. A fetus can't be terminated without the panel's approval. No single doctor can decide. In fact any doctor who even discusses aborting an omega is seriously penalized. He would lose his medical license. If a doctor performs an unauthorized abortion, he'll go to prison. I doubt this prick of a doctor is pissed enough to risk prison."

"You're sure?"

"It's in the Handbook on Omega Care. I can show you the section. I downloaded the latest edition just before you got home." Bobby leaned down on one elbow, half reclining across the foot of the bed. Dean was listening to reason now, not running off half cocked. The tension in the room had lessened considerably. "I can show you any time you'd like. This doctor seems to be opting to test early but we can look up what the next exam should cover."

"It would be good to know what to expect." Dean acknowledged. Unconsciously he copied Bobby's relaxed position. "I hate being taken by surprise." Dean admitted sheepishly

"I don't blame you there. Hunters know surprises are rarely good. If you've got questions, I'm more than willing to look for answers. I know books and computers aren't your thing."

Dean actually smiled at that. "I'll take a socket wrench or a gun over a computer any day."

Bobby returned his grin. "Soon that will be a diaper or a baby bottle."

Dean laughed as he ran loving hands over his belly. "Naw, I think I'm gonna nurse Squiggle. The doctor says I've got the equipment. Why not use it."

"Use it, if you've got it, eh? That's the rule alright. Are you good now? Not thinking of sprinting for the great unknown, I hope?"

"I'm good. For now. I might do some contingency planning in case that letter comes. I should go talk that over with Sam." Dean fought back a yawn as he spoke. "Thanks Bobby. If you don't mind, I might rest a bit before I unpack."

"You do that. It's been a stressful day for you and the baby." Bobby stood up, making ready to leave.

"I need to talk to Sam," a yawn interrupted, "He's pretty mad at me." The long lashes were brushing freckled cheeks.

"Don't you worry. I'll go settle Sasquatch's fur. You just rest for a bit. Take fifteen." Bobby recommended before he left the room. He slid the duffle inside before closing the bedroom door. He was betting Dean would be asleep before he made it back downstairs.


	33. Chapter 33

Dean counted the days. He knew better than to expect the letter the first few days after his latest examination. He knew it would take time for the sample to be processed. Time for the results to be reviewed. Time for the paperwork to be completed. He knew it. He did. But he couldn't stop himself from waiting, watching for the postal van that stopped at the end of the salvage yard's long driveway six out seven days of the week. Three days of surveillence, gave him a reasonably reliable schedule. Once he had that, it was easy to arrange his work to be nearby, to be the first to open Bobby's rusty, dented mail box and fish out the contents. The daily deliveries were pretty mundane-- mass marketing junk mail that ended up in the trash, a few bills for Bobby or the business, maybe a magazine. Bobby didn't get personal letters. Did anyone anymore? Bobby wasn't exactly the pen pal type, after all. And both he and Sam conducted their business over the Internet. No one knew or cared that he and Sam had taken up residence at Bobby's house. No one but Omega Services. That's what worried Dean.

Sam wasn't stupid. Neither was Bobby. It didn't take long for each to realize that Dean had altered his routine. And why. When they discussed it, Bobby thought it best to leave well enough alone. Dean had a right to be worried. He was dealing with the pressure well, Bobby thought. 

The three of them had sat down and worked out some 'what if' plans. They were being practical. And the contingency measures helped ease Dean's anxiety. A supply of nonpershable food was packed in the Impala's trunk. Their personal belongings could be packed in 15 minutes or less. Bobby had put a great deal of thought into assembling a functional medical kit-- complete with a practical emergency textbook, painkillers, sterile bedding, delivery supplies and every conceivable newborn care paraphernalia that he could lay his hands on.

They had agreed that if the letter came, Sam and Dean would go to one of Bobby's hidden away safe houses. Hopefully that would at least give them the time to consider the 'what if' neither Dean nor Sam could bear to discuss. If a letter came, if an early doctor's appointment was scheduled that would mean their baby wasn't healthy. Could they be parents to a sickly or handicapped child? There was no question in either's mind that they would love their baby. The issue would be could they provide for the child? Could they even keep their baby alive without the assistance of medical technology?

If the letter came, they would have no way of knowing how serious their baby's medical condition was unless they went to the appointment. And then, of course, it would be too late. Any decision about the fate of their child would be out of their hands. They would be at the mercy of the Omega Services bureaucracy. 

That was a possibility Dean refused to accept. If the letter came, Dean was determined to go into hiding, to have his baby and let nature take its course. When this adventure had begun, Sam had promised him that it was his body and therefore his decision. Dean intended to hold Sam to that promise. He loved this baby and would do the best he could to bring him into this world. No matter what the consequences were. End of discussion.

Sam watched Dean's forays to the mailbox for the first few days. It was too early for there to be a letter. It was easy to see his brother's fear and determination as he completed his daily mission. When each delivery was cleared, his relief was palpable. His courage was heartbreakingly endearing. Despite Bobby's advice, Sam couldn't sit back doing nothing any longer.

The next day as Dean walked down to the road, Sam appeared from among the rows of junked vehicles. He said nothing, just smiled and offered Dean his hand. Together they walked the remaining length of the driveway. Together they opened the mailbox and sorted through the day's delivery. That day and for the days to come.

On the tenth day after the amniocentesis, a letter arrived addressed to Mr. Sam Winchester. Dean went ghost white when he read the name. His hands trembled as he gave the envelope to his brother. In his eyes, Sam could already see that Dean was preparing to run.

Sam stared at the envelope. He blinked once, twice then frowned wanting to be sure of what he had to say. Sam swallowed the lump clogging his throat. "Dean, it's not from Om Services."

"Metatron's office?"

"No. The return address is the University of Sioux Falls."

"You're sure? Maybe they do the testing."

"I don't think the Department of Social Work does chromosome analysis."

"Open it!" Dean demanded. He bit his lower lip to steel his nerves.

Sam slit the envelope with his boot shive. Enclosed was a colorful brochure advertising the new pilot programs, a Whelping Center and its companion, Midwife services. An open house was scheduled for the upcoming Saturday. Carrying omegas and their Alphas were invited to check out the new facilities.

Both stared at the glossy phamplet. Dean looked up at Sam, not sure what to make of this. 

Sam's face was split by a huge grin. Sam threw both arms around Dean. He kissed him hard until Dean was limp in his embrace. When Sam finally broke the lip lock, Dean protested half heartedly, "You're squishing Squiggle!"

"Squiggle is just fine. And we both know it!"

"We do?" Dean squeaked as Sam made another attempt to crush his ribs and suck the breath out of his lungs. "Easy man. Why are you grinning like Alice's weirdo cat? That's not tickets to Disneyland you got in your big mitts." Sam picked Dean up and swung him around in sheer delight. "Hey, dude! Delicate cargo, remember!"

"There isn't anything delicate about you! And this is way better than Disney!" Sam laughed, then took a hard look at the confused expression on his brother's face. He set Dean gently back on his feet. "Don't you remember what the nurse said?"

Dean thought that maybe Sam had finally cracked under the pressure. He was acting more than a bit nuts. But Dean tried, really tried to recall what exactly the nurse at Metatron's office had said as they were leaving. "She jabbered a lot. I don't remember much." He confessed. "I just wanted to get out there."

"It's okay. I remember." Sam soothed. He bent down to plant a kiss on those lush lips again. "She said that-" Another teasing kiss. "We could only be considered for this program if the amnio scan showed nothing!"

"You're sure?" Dean was afraid to believe it.

"I'm sure." Sam spread one hand across Dean's belly. "Squiggle is just fine. Trust me." Sam whispered as he nuzzled Dean's ear. 

That garnered a low moan of pleasure from Dean, as well as a pair of weak knees. Alpha scent, musk overlaid with woodsmoke, filled Dean's head. Down below, he felt his channel grow slick. He let his head fall back in surrender. His world felt right for the first time in ages. He was more than willing to celebrate in his favorite way... But he had one meek protest to offer first.

"We should tell Bobby the good news." Dean groaned as Sam nipped his earlobe. It was hard to think straight. Bobby. "He's been worried too."

"Later." Sam growled, mouthing that strong column of throat. "Now I just want you!" The tart scent of omega arousal was fast overwhelming his senses. "Need you. Only you! I want you, De... So bad!"

They had to get someplace private, fast. "Got that daybed." Dean managed to get out between tongue dances. "In my shop." He moaned again as Sam swept him up into his arms. "Bobby insisted. Said I might need it."

Sam chuckled, a sexy private laugh. "Yeah, we need it. We'll put it to good use." Sam started off toward Dean's garage. "For right now. Forget about Bobby."

Sam moved quickly with Dean cradled in his arms. 

"Yes, Alpha." Dean offered meekly. He traced the strong stubble covered jaw with the tip of his tongue. Dean undid a couple of buttons on Sam's shirt. He slipped one hand inside. He could feel the hammer of that strong heart that he loved. Dean kissed the hollow of Sam's throat. He smiled to himself as Sam's Adam's apple bobbed wildly just above his lips. His fingers combed through the tangle of chest hair to find the erect nub of a nipple. Dean tweaked it ever so gently.

Sam's growl deepened. He quickened his pace, eating up the short distance in long strides.

 

Bobby watched the two of them from the front window of the master bedroom. He had made a point of keeping this vigil ever since he and Sam had figured out Dean's preoccupation with the mail delivery. It wasn't spying. It was only prudent to keep track of Dean. Just in case.

It had pleased him no end when Sam had joined Dean that day as he walked down the drive. They were quite a pair, he conceded as he watched them fall into step together. Face it, he told himself, they had always belonged together. He should have known it the first time John had brought them to his house. It showed in the way Dean was so protective of his little brother, in the way they curled together in one ball of limbs and breaths when they slept. It should have been plain as day that were destined for each other. Bobby's only excuse for not seeing it was that Betas weren't wired that way. It was kind of hard to imagine someone else, someone you loved being that different from you.

Bobby scratched at his beard. Hmm, had John known his sons were meant to be together, to be mates? Maybe he was being too hard on his old friend. Maybe John's motivation for taking Dean to be altered hadn't been selfish after all. And maybe Dean really had volunteered to go to the clinic to become an omega. Jeezus, that was hard to believe that any one as virile and macho as Dean Winchester would willingly sacrifice his masculinity.

Bobby squelched his speculation as he caught the byplay at the end of the driveway. Damn, there must be a letter. Shit! Bobby started to think of all the things they could do, should do, would do... Damn it to hell!

Bobby reared back as he saw Sam grabbed Dean and swing him around. He saw them kiss long and hard. Was Sam trying to keep Dean from running? Were they saying goodbye? Bobby had been sure Sam would go with Dean. That's how they had planned it. Maybe... Bobby saw how Dean just kind of melted into Sam's arms. Bobby knew that Alpha/omega chemistry was powerful but could it overcome the survival instincts of a parent for a child?

Bobby saw Sam sweep Dean into his arms. They were moving away from the road at a quick pace. Bobby started to consider making himself scarce just as the pair veered off toward Dean's workshop. Well, it looked like that old daybed was going to get a workout. Better not to think about that, Bobby told himself. When he had hauled it out of the attic, he had thought it might come in handy for naps as Dean's pregnancy advanced. He couldn't say he'd envisioned it being used like this... "I hope they remember it's an antique." Bobby grumbled as he turned away from the window.


	34. Chapter 34

If he had been asked what he expected the place to be like, Dean probably would not have given much of an answer. Frankly, he hadn't thought about it. Drab. Impersonal. Utilitarian. Scary. Like the Omega Services clinics that he'd been to previously, that would probably have been his best guess. Certainly nothing like the place he and Sam walked into on a rainy Saturday afternoon. They stepped from a gray world leaking a cold drizzle into color, warmth and comfort.

The University of Sioux Falls Omega Care facility made quite an impression. The reception area was a small atrium with window walls looking out onto a fall garden bright with chrysanthemums in bloom and red leaved Japanese maples dripping above. There were bird feeders that lured feathered guests despite the rain. And a plump black squirrel that made Dean laugh at its acrobatics as it hung from an overhead branch to steal another peanut. He was just calling Sam's attention to the furry culprit when a woman with that unique nasal inflection that every Dakota native denied existed, spoke up from behind.

"Yaw. We'll like as have a field of peanuts come summer. That little fella's been mighty busy. Loves them peanuts, eh? The sunflower seeds too. Oh, I should introduces myself, eh? Donna Hanscum is my name. Midwiving is my game." She offered a plump hand to Sam. 

"Sam. Sam Winchester." He responded with an easy smile as he took her hand. "And this is my brother, Dean." Sam liked the woman instantly. She seemed friendly and unpretentious. He liked her even more when he released her hand, and she turned to offer it to Dean. Such a measure of respect and welcome was an uncommon gesture to an omega. Dean shook her hand with a satisfied grin.

"Well, Sam and Dean, welcome to our Omega Center. By the way, we're looking for a new name for this place. Something more neighborly. More friendly. Having a contest, we are, if you got any ideas. Nice prizes if you win. A crib filled with a year's supply of diapers! Something you'll be needing soon, eh?" She gave Dean a small shoulder butt. "Can never have too many diapers, eh?"

"Diapering will be Sam's job." That made both Sam's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "After all I'm doing all the hard work now." Dean couldn't hold the straight face for long. He laughed. "At least for the first day or two after the baby arrives."

"Oh ho! I like your style. You've got the right idea." Donna added cheerfully. "Fathers should be involved in caring for the baby. That's a big part of our philosophy. Parenting is a partnership. Or at least, it should be."

"But I'm putting the cart in front of the horse. Have a good look around our swank new digs. Feel free to ask any questions you might have. Staff are wandering about. And we hope you'll pick us for your birth-" she hurriedly corrected herself. "Your whelping experience." Donna flashed another broad grin before she moved off to greet another Alpha/ omega pair.

 

"Do you believe this place?" Dean asked again in a quasi whisper as he and Sam explored. The place truly was impressive. They'd already seen classrooms where oms would be able to study for their G.E.D. or learn basic life skills. It was a fact that omegas rarely finished junior high. Why waste limited resources educating a breeder? Its body knew already everything it needed to fulfill its purpose. And it was wise to remove the distraction of promiscuous omegas from the school environment.

Dean skimmed a hand over the gleaming surface of a stove, one of ten stationed in this room. "Maybe they could teach me how to cook more than Spaghetti-O's." He mumbled, looking over the sleek countertops to the instructor's station, where an overhead camera was positioned to display the teacher's demonstrations on the big screen TV mounted on the wall. "Quite a set up."

Sam stepped up, to wrap both arms around him from behind. "My big brother is smart enough to learn whatever he'd like."

"Yeah, maybe you think so but you never saw my report cards." Dean tossed back, with a self conscious shrug. "I'm lousy at books and school and such."

"Dean, did you ever spend six months at one school? The way Dad jerked us around, sometimes we went to four or five schools a year."

"Eight. The record was eight. The year before you started school. After that he started leaving us with Bobby or Reverend Jim for a few months at a time. Unless he needed me to help on a hunt."

"I hated it every time you were gone. It wasn't right. I missed you so much. I think that's why school became important to me. It gave me something to think about other than how much I missed you."

Dean tilted his head back to invite a kiss which Sam was more than willing to supply. "You were always a genius. You learned things so fast. Remember how you used to help me do my homework." He chuckled softly. "I used to give you my assignments and let you have at them. Kept you busy hours on end. But I never could figure out how to smuggle you in to take the tests for me. If I could have done that, I would have been college material."

"Given a fair chance you could be."

"What would an omega do with college?" Dean turned into Sam's arms, pressing his face into Sam's neck. 

"Think about it. You might just find it's fun to learn, if you have a chance." Sam squeezed him tightly. "Besides someday you might have to help Squiggle with his homework."

"That will be your job, for sure. Come on, let's see what else this place has."

What else turned out to be offices for Legal Aid and Counseling. There was a library filled with books and computers. And a common area designed to encourage interaction and socializing. There were three rooms designated for childcare, divided by age groups. And last and largest, a gymnasium filled with strange equipment- at least to Dean's Eyes- a corral of huge bouncy balls, a dozen half round platforms with an attached step and stacks of colorful thick mats. There wasn't a basketball or rim in sight. Which was just as well. He wasn't in any shape to be shooting hoops now or in the near future.

Dean nudged one of the weird looking platforms with the toe of his boot. "What do you suppose these are for?"

Sam shook his head, long hair flopping into his eyes. "No idea." He replied pushing the wayward strands back behind his ears. "Exercise, I imagine."

"Yeah, exercise so I can keep my sexy figure, right?"

"Actually, exercise to strengthen your core and open your pelvis." A female voice interjected. "Exercises proven to ease labor and delivery. My name is Ruby. I'm one of the midwives but I also specialize in omega fitness." She turned to Sam, fluttering her eyelashes as she smiled up at the handsome Alpha. "It is certainly a pleasure to meet you." The tip of her tongue emerged to moisten her lips. 

Sam didn't seem to catch the undertones of the midwife's come on but Dean sure did. He scowled at the dark eyed brunette. 

"The doctor was concerned about the narrowness of Dean's hips." Sam began, eager for an alternative to the prescribed treatment. 

"We have lots of time to address those issues. I always like get to know my clients. Tell me about yourself." She linked her arm with Sam's and drew him aside. Dean watched the maneuver with an eyebrow on the rise and a curse on his lips. "What the fuck, bitch!" From over her shoulder, Ruby cast a sweet smile his way. Dean interpreted that simper as 'Quiet down, little omega.' Dean was having none of that shit.

"Sam, I think it's time we move on."

"Just a minute, Dean, I want to hear what Ruby has to say."

"Alpha, I need you now." Dean insisted. 

Sam's head snapped up, nostrils flaring at slight scent of omega distress. He shook off the woman's touch and returned to Dean's side. One big hand cupped Dean's chin, the other spread over his belly. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. As long as you're with me." Sam frowned, not quite sure what had just transpired but content to be back where he belonged. He drew Dean into a hug. Dean peaked over Sam's shoulder to flash a small triumphant smile. 

Ruby returned an indifferent shrug. Some Alphas liked variety. Most were virile enough to satisfy multiple partners. She was willing to share. Just because an Alpha had a breeder, didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy a Beta lover. She didn't see why the om was being so possessive. Or why this Alpha tolerated it. Oh well, she could bide her time. The omega would soon be heavy and less responsive. Maybe then... And if not this one, there was always another.

A lilting voice interrupted from the gym's entrance. "Excuse me, gentle sirs. I must have a wee word with my colleague." 

Ruby suppressed an instinctive cringe. The woman must have radar or eyes in the back of her head or something. Schooling her features, Ruby turned to face the clinic's director.

"We were just leaving." The omega spoke up, stepping from the comfort of his partner's embrace.

"Och, please do nae go. Ye have yet to finish the tour." The newcomer was striking. Copper colored hair cascaded past her shoulders. She was petite and curvy, but there was no mistakening the air of authority she wore. She was more mature than would normally catch their attention but she was nicely put together and carried herself very well. 

Ruby went to face the music. She knew what to expect. This wasn't her first reprimand. She had heard it all before.

Sam and Dean turned to give the women a measure of privacy. The conversation was brief and out of their earshot. Dean chanced a quick glance. It didn't look like a sweet exchange. He nodded to himself, satisfied that the omega center wasn't a covert hunting ground for Betas. Not that he could blame the little bitch, Sam was definitely worth fighting for.

"Please allow me to introduce meself." The older woman stepped over to them. She held out a tiny, manicured hand. "Rowena McCloud."

"Sam Winchester. And my brother, Dean. You're the director and founder of this place."

"Aye, that I am. Although I can nae take credit for the concept." They began walking together, leaving the gym - and a disappointed Ruby- behind.

Rowena led them back to the atrium, then crossed to a set of double doors that stood open in welcome. With an impish smile and an arched brow, she invited them in. Dean hesitated, the fleeting thought of a spider and a fly whispered through his mind. Sensing his nerves, Sam took his hand and led him into the medical wing.

The walls were a cheerful sky blue. Artwork- colorful abstracts or nature scenes- graced the walls. Planters filled with greenery were stationed near the nurses station and in a seating area just beyond the doors. It seemed a pleasant enough place.

"Welcome to our birthing center- I can nae call it a 'whelping' center- tis nae right." The ginger head gave a weary shake. "Bollux! I hate that term. Ye nae be beasts!" The painted lips firmed. "This facility is designed for the comfort and care of the laboring omega. We have a dozen birthing rooms. Each fully equipped, complete with soaking tubs as some oms finding a good soak relaxing. Some even choose a water delivery, feeling it's more natural for the babe. After all the babe has been swimming about in the womb." She smiled sweetly. "Our beds have been specially designed for an om's comfort. Each can be configured to a variety of position. Ye find nary a standard examination table here! Nae stirrups! Nae restraints! It's a fact that laying supine puts undue pressure on the omega's coccyx and the nerve bundles, increasing pain and prolonging labor. We expect our omegas to exercise and practice relaxation techniques in preparation for labor. We encourage a laboring om to walk, to rock, to bounce on one of those great big balls ye saw just now. All help open the omega channel and ease the delivery. "This," she indicated an odd looking padded chair, "is a birthing chair. It's designed to support the laboring om while allowing the midwife the access needed to catch the babe as she coaches and encourages the omega." Her smile grew as she looked heavenward. "I was blessed to birth me own son. I can tell ye that tis called labor for a good reason. Bringing a life into the world tis hard work! But aye, tis a beautiful experience. Tis my privilege to assist in more than two hundred births. Each was a miracle. Each babe a precious gift."

"This is all very impressive. And everything you said, sounds great," Sam, ever the worry wart, had to ask. "But what if there are complications?"

"A fully equipped operating room, tis at the end of this passageway. An incubator and neonatal emergency unit on standby. If necessary, a transfer by ambulance to the university hospital can be completed in less than 10 minutes. But that should nae be necessary. Our physician is an excellent omega obstetrician. I may be a wee bit biased, as he's me son. But Fergus has been fully accredited by the South Dakota medical board. Ye are welcome to investigate Dr. Crowley's record and reputation." Rowena smiled confidently. "And ye have satisfied yer curiosity, we will be delighted to assist in this wee Winchester's arrival into this world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I've thought and thought about what to call the omega midwife facility... Nothing sounded right to me. Does anyone else have a suggestion? Who else should be a midwife?
> 
> Please forgive my lame attempt to write a Scottish dialect. I tried, that's all I can say.


	35. Chapter 35

Routine shifted.

Bobby still spent most of his days researching lore and acting as a clearinghouse for hunters. With Sam and Dean sharing the house, he rarely opted to join a hunt. Family was more important.

Sam's hacking assignments were frequent but rarely offered him much of a challenge. The pay was good, excellent really, but Sam was bored. Sensing his growing discontent, Dean suggested that Sam enroll at one of the nearby colleges. Sam scoffed at the idea. He was about to become a father. He had responsibilities. This wasn't the time to indulge in the harebrained dreams he'd had as a kid. When he said as much to his brother, Dean stared him down, those big green eyes wide with dismay.

"Why can't you do both, Sammy? Do it all. The job is pretty flexible. Pass on assignments if you're pressed for time. The baby, I can handle. I did practically raise you, after all. I can handle L'il Squiggle." He smiled up at Sam. "You always wanted to be a lawyer when you grew up. I got news for you, kiddo, you are grown up! It's time to make that dream a reality. There is no time like the present."

"Dean, I don't want to be an absentee father! I want to be there for our baby! Not just for a few big moments in his life but for all the little things too. Believe it or not, I want to change dirty diapers. And kiss boo boos. And read bedtime stories."

"Don't worry, Sammy, there will be enough dirty diapers to share. And owies to kiss. I get it, you don't want to be like Dad. I get it. There's no way you would be." He drew Sam down for a quick kiss. "You can do this, Bro. You can. If you want it."

With that endorsement, Sam accepted the challenge. He started researching the colleges in the greater Sioux Falls area. He started hunting for scholarships. Maybe, just maybe this could work.

 

Cutting back on his vintage auto parts business- he would have to do it anyway as the pregnancy progressed and after the baby came- Dean went for classes three afternoons a week at the omega center. Culinary classes with the bubbly Donna were actually fun and surprisingly successful. Sam and Bobby appreciated his increasing skills and repertoire of dishes. He took a money management class figuring it might help him keep the business in the black. After all he couldn't expect Sam to balance his books while he was studying lawyer stuff. Later, when he was closer to delivering there would be an infant care class. Now most of his time was spent under the guidance of the beautiful but ever randy Ruby. Conditioning his body for this pregnancy, preparing for the delivery were his first priority. After only a few sessions, Dean could already see his body adapting, his hips widening to cradle the ever growing bulk of the baby.

The class had just finished a series of yoga stretches when Rowena slipped into the gym. She watched with wise eyes as Ruby directed the class into corpse pose. Her voice was soft and persuasive, compelling as she guided the oms into a deeper state of relaxation. Their bodies releasing all tension as they melted into the cushioned mats. Ruby guided them through several slow deep breathes, prolonging their inhalations as well as their exhalations. The pose competed, Ruby brought them gently back, encouraging them to wiggle their toes then their fingers before rolling to their sides. Awkwardly the omegas struggled to sit up, folding their legs into the traditional lotus position. Ruby took them through a few more gentle stretches then lifted one hand up then out.

"Namaste." Ruby intoned.

The class parroted the response. Dean didn't even pretend to participate in that. He had asked Sam what the word meant. Sam, relaxed and fairly glowing from the work out they had shared, had explained the meaning as, 'I see your spirit, your inner light." Dean saw Ruby's spirit alright! And he didn't like it one bit! He was sure to keep his Alpha close and well satisfied, wary of Ruby's wiles.

Dismissed, the class began to slowly maneuver to their feet. The Alphas moved to help their omegas stand. Dean, the only omega without an Alpha escort, rose slowly, gracelessly, unaided. No Alpha would help him for fear that Sam might see their touch as an encroachment on his property.

"We'll need a forklift to get up before much longer." Gabe, the jokester quipped. "Or maybe a crane." His big brother, Raph, laughed on cue and swooped in to scoop him up and set him on his feet. Gabe always had one of his brothers with him. Dean didn't mind Raph or Mike. They seemed pretty decent fellows for Alphas. He wasn't so sure about the third brother, Luke. He seemed to be a pain in the ass but Dean had only met him once. Their father, the senior Alpha, had yet to visit the center. Gabriel joked that he was too busy running the world to be bothered with a lowly omega, like him. He had said it with a comic roll of his big blue eyes and a silly expression on his face. He got the laugh that he wanted but Dean saw the pain that his friend was hiding. 

"Speak for yourself." Ash put in, rolling easily to his feet despite the fact he was due to deliver in only two months. Ash and his Alpha, Drew, had practiced yoga for years. They were some new age hippie types that lived on a commune just outside of town. From what Ash said he didn't know, for sure, which of the half dozen or so Alphas that called the ranch home had sired his pup. Ash said it didn't matter. In his little corner of the world, it was share and share alike whether it was kids, clothes or food, Alpha, Beta or omega. Ash swore it was the best way of life.

Dean knew it was none of his business but he wondered, not for the first time how it worked to be omega to multiple Alphas. Weren't conflicts, jealousy bound to arise. It was perfect with just him and Sammy. It felt like this was how it was always meant to be. But every once in a while, the worry rose- what about when Dad showed up? What if Dad wanted to claim his Alpha rights? Legally Dad had just as much right to use Dean as Sam did but- Dean couldn't see it happening. Or did he just not want to see that happen? From the few times Dean had tried to talk about this with Sam, he was pretty sure Sam didn't like the idea of sharing even if it was with Dad. But if Dad expected it, could he say no?

"Soooo, deep in thought." The clear feminine voice called him back to the here and now. "Tis there a problem? May I be of assistance? Is our precious Ruby misbehaving again? I see young Samuel is absent.

Dean turned to face Rowena, surprised to find he was alone with the director. Apparently all the others had wandered out while he was worrying about what ifs. "No, Ruby's been fine. Sam's just busy today." Dean didn't want to explain that he was taking some big test that all high school students took to qualify for colleges. "I'm a big boy. I can come to class without my Alpha to babysit me."

Rowena smiled with satisfaction. "Of course, ye are! Tis an attitude I hope will catch on among the other pairings. Alphas will always be welcome but the center is designed for omegas. A safe refuge for them. A community where they can be comfortable on their own, amongst themselves."

"Yeah! I get that." Dean acknowledged. "That won't happen overnight, you know. Alphas don't trust easy. They protect their oms."

"Aye, I am very aware of that. But the fact yer here without your Alpha in attendance will be noted by the others. I wager one or two of the others will copy your example within the next fortnight."

"I don't see where you're getting that!" Dean laughed at the idea.

"Truly, ye have nae noticed?" Rowena countered with wide eyed surprise. She cocked her head and continued, "When Sam joined in on the exercise class, working beside you, encouraging your effort, one by one the other Alphas began to participate too. Now most do. When ye and Sam started relaxing afterward in the lounge, other pairs stayed too. Conversations have started. Tis a healthy thing. A good sign."

"We're just getting to know each other. Making friends." Dean didn't see what the big deal was. "I like Gabe and Ash. Their Alphas aren't such bad guys." He shrugged. "Well Luke can be a bit hard to take sometimes, he really creeps Sam out."

"Och, ye really did nae see it, do ye, lad? Ye and Sam are leaders. Ye set the tone, the standard. The others look to ye, follow ye."

"I'm no leader." Dean protested. "Maybe Sam is. Me? I'm just trying to get by."

"Aye, the best ne'er do see it. Tis in yer nature. Not a choice or an act. Just ye being ye. As simple as that. That is why I wanted to ask a favor of ye."

"I suppose you want me to lead a revolution!" He joked, not sure what the wily redhead could possibly think he could help with.

"Nae yet!" Rowena joined in the laughter. "It's a simpler matter I have in mind. A new omega will join us tomorrow. He has had a difficult time of it. I can nae say more due to confidentiality. The poor laddie could use a friend. I thought ye might be willing to show him the ins and outs of the place."

Dean shrugged. "Is that all? It's no skin off my nose to show the kid around. What's his name?"

"Kevin Tran."


	36. Chapter 36

Rowena's request for a favor sounded simple. Be a friend to another omega. How hard could that be? Kevin seemed to be a nice enough kid. Emphasis on the word 'Kid'. Dean guessed that he was only fifteen or sixteen. The kid's slight stature and lack of height coupled with his oriental genes made figuring his age a real guessing game. But his age was the least of Dean's problems.

How to befriend the kid without getting his head bitten off by one fiercely protective mother was. How to get Dragon Mama to allow an Alpha - even sweet, innocent Sammy within ten feet of her precious baby boy was. How to pry the kid out of her claws for even five minutes was. Dean had seen some possessive Alphas but this little lady, all 5 feet of her, took the cake and then some!

Utterly frustrated, Dean expressed his exasperation at the dinner table one night. "How did her son ever get knocked up with Mama on guard duty?"

Sam shrugged his no answer. For the past few weeks he'd felt the scald of Mrs. Tran's eyes, the bite of her tongue. Politeness, charm, shy smiles and puppy dog eyes. The woman was immune to them all. He had no idea what step to take next.

"You boys are missing the point." Bobby drawled. "Granted I haven't met the lady. My take would be she is in full dragon mode cuz she failed, maybe just one time, but it was enough for her boy to end up pregnant. I'd say she feels guilty as hell. And scared. She's a Beta. She can't claim her son or his baby. Any Alpha that catches his scent and gets a hard on can. She must feel fucking helpless. She's hanging on with sheer determination, snarling and scratching at any that come near. She's desperate. Alone. Scared."

Dean looked at Sam. Sam looked at Dean. Their slack jaws were evidence that this was stunning new insight. Both turned their full attention to this man who was more a father than their own flesh and blood.

"That makes a lot of sense." Dean agreed. He smiled at Bobby. "How'd you get so smart?"

"Experience." Bobby growled. "I remember how I felt when I heard what happened to you." One big paw reached out to ruffle Dean's hair. "Love makes you crazy."

Dean didn't know how to respond to that. Sam solved his problem by pushing the conversation back to the practical.

"Where do we go from here? How do we help Kevin?"

"You ain't going to get around the woman. You can't get through her. Maybe it's time to make her your ally. You help the kid by helping the mother." Bobby advised. "You said they just moved here. That they are living out of a motel. Why don't you invite them to Thankgiving dinner?" He suggested. "A small step. A simple gesture. Maybe a starting point."

 ************************************************************************* 

"Well, there she sits." Dean sighed, dreading what he was about to try, fearing he was doomed to fail. Again. 

Sam gave him a quick hug, kissed the top of his head for encouragement, support. "You can do this. One little Chinese lady surely can't be as scary as a nest of vamps."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have to go talk to her. And it's way easier to kill something than to change its mind. Talking is hard work. Guns and knives are fast work."

Sam nodded, in complete agreement. He tipped his head toward the lounge. "I'll get some snacks, so we can celebrate your success afterwards." He kissed Dean on his forehead. "Good luck!"

Dean drew a deep breath, clearing his head for the upcoming confrontation. Squiggle did a full body roll, settling in for his usual nap after the stimulation of the morning exercise session. Another deep breath. Ok, Dean told himself, he was ready. This time he would get through to Mama Dragon.

"May I join you?" Dean asked politely as he stepped up to the table where Mrs. Tran sat, staring daggers at him. Determined to make headway this time, he pulled out the chair across from her.

To ward him off, the woman turned up the voltage on her angry glower. "If I say 'No' will it stop you." She snapped. She was tired of this harassment. It had been a mistake to move here. This omega center might be a big deal but why couldn't they just leave she an Kevin alone.

Dean offered his most charming smile as took the seat. "Sorry, no."

She spat out what was on her mind. "Why don't you just leave us alone?"

Dean forced his smile to remain in place. "You want the truth?"

"Of course, I want the truth!" The dark eyes flashed. "I don't like being lied to!"

"Sometimes, for some people, lies are easier to swallow than the truth." Dean let the smile fade. "I promised Rowena that I'd be Kevin's friend. I'm trying to help him but you won't let me get near him."

"Kevin doesn't need you or anyone else. He has me. I've told Rowena that. But she insists on these idiotic counseling sessions. And she won't let me be in there. Kevin doesn't need you or her. All he needs is me! I'm the only one he can trust!"

"Wow! That must be awfully lonely for him. Not to mention an overwhelming responsibility for you." Dean sighed, feeling real sympathy for this woman. "I'm sorry someone hurt you. That someone hurt Kevin."

"You know nothing about us!"

"That's true." Dean replied simply. "But I can see you're hurting. That you are desperately trying to protect your son. That you are alone. Probably scared. Worried that you will fail him. Maybe thinking that you already have."

Those quiet words struck home. Dean saw the hard eyes go misty, the glare faltered and fall away. "Please, just leave us alone." She pleaded.

Dean pretended not to hear her desperation. He had a foot in the door, there was no going back now. If he wanted her to open up, to trust him, she needed to know where he was coming from. "I don't know much about you. Or Kevin." Dean forced himself to meet those bleak, black eyes. "But I know something about being an omega." Dean swallowed hard. What he had to say wasn't going to be easy to share. "Six months ago. A little less, I was an Alpha. My life was good. Then Sam presented as an Alpha. Dad was an Alpha. You know the law. Every family has to have an omega." Dean's gaze faltered, his eyes traveling to where Sam stood, tall and handsome, gathering a tray of goodies. Dean's Adam's apple bobbed as he fought to get the words out. He wanted her to understand. "Sam's my baby brother. Our Mom died when he was just a baby. He's always been my responsibility. I... I..." 

The first crack grew. "You love him. Even I can see that. You had that surgery to protect him."

"Yeah, maybe. I guess so. I don't think it through that completely. Things happened really fast." Dean scrubbed both hands over his face, pushing back old pain. "There was Sam, so big and tall, reeking Alpha scent. He was beautiful. I couldn't let them change that. But I wasn't ready for what happened. I wasn't ready for my whole life to be different. To change." One hand drifted over this rounded belly. Dean forced himself to meet those dark eyes again. Were they softer now? "I hated what that damn prick of a doctor had done to me. I-" His eyes dropped to his other hand white knuckling the edge of the table. He forced himself to relax, let that hand join its mate, caressing his Squiggle bump. Dean looked up, held Mrs. Tran's eyes. "I hated myself." He confessed. "I thought about ending it. Must be a pretty common reaction cuz the nurse afterward wouldn't leave me unsupervised. If he had- I might have done it." He snorted, a small smile escaping. "I'll admit I thought of doing it after I got home. But there was Sam. I still had Sam. He was doing everything he could to take care of me. To help me. I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't leave him to live with me offing myself."

Mrs. Tran forced her heart to harden. "Your story is very touching. But what does it have to do with my son and me?"

Dean answered honestly, directly. "When I look at Kevin, I see the same lost 'I hate my life' look that stared back at me from the mirror. It nearly pulled me under." He laid his hand over hers, felt her trembling. "I know you are worried about him. So is Rowena. She asked me to help. To be his friend. It's not much. But I'd like to give him a shoulder to lean on. To cry on, if that's what he needs."

She pulled free of his touch, fought to stay strong. "Kevin doesn't need you. He has me to take care of him."

"No disrespect intended, Ma'am. But you haven't been where Kevin is. And you refuse to accept what he is now. There is no going back for him. How can you help when you can't deal with his new reality yourself? How can Kevin confide in you when you have no idea what he is feeling?"

"You're not a doctor. Or a psychologist. Who are you to say my son is suicidal!?"

"I'm not saying that, Ma'am. I'm saying he's hurting. He's confused. He's scared. His world has turned upside down. Whatever plans or dreams he had for his life are gone. Now he is a carrying omega. He can't change that. And no matter how much you might like to, neither can you. My advice, for what it's worth, is that you accept that fact and let him move on with his life."

Tears filled her eyes. She looked away from the earnest young man confronting her. "Kevin was going to be a doctor." Her voice was soft, ladened with grief. "All his teachers said he was a genius. He showed such promise."

"Well despite what some pigheaded Alphas might think, I've seen no evidence that pregnancy affects an omega's intelligence. I'm willing to bet that given half a chance, Kevin will find a way to put his genius to good use. Might not be as you envisioned it but a talent like that won't be wasted."

"I wish I could share your optimism." She sighed, shaking her head with heartfelt doubt.

"Give him a chance." Dean urged. "Give us a chance. We would like to be your friend, both Kevin's and yours. Bobby, he's sort of our surrogate dad. Anyway, Bobby wanted me to invite to our place for Thanksgiving dinner. Don't worry Bobby is a Beta. No ulterior motives, I swear! We just know how lonely a holiday meal in a diner filled with strangers can be."

It took a bit more persuading, some sweet talk on Dean's part. A lot of silence and staying at a safe distance on Sam's, but Mrs. Tran eventually caved. Dean, it seemed would be hosting his first Thanksgiving dinner. 

***********************************************************************************************

"Do I look like I live the Norman Rockwell life?"

"You're kidding me, Bobby! This whole dinner thing was your idea! What the hell are we supposed to do now?" 

"Quit your mewling and use your brain. Don't be idjits. This is a job like any other. You do your research." Bobby shrugged, swiping one hand across the back of his neck. "Do the work."

"This isn't like ganking a ghost! I don't know the first thing about doing a damn turkey! Not to mention the stuffing and cranberry shit!. Whatever the hell else you need for a Thanksgiving dinner."

"We could ask Donna for recipes." Sam suggested suddenly. "Easy ones, that beginning cooks can handle. I'm sure she can help. And Dean don't panic, you're not in this alone. Bobby and I will do our part."

*********************************************************************************************

"Yeah. Sure. I can help with that." Donna answered without any hesitation. She opened her laptop and started a search, highlighting possibilities. "Turkey for the main course, for sure. Are you thinking of roasting, brining or deep frying?" She didn't look up to see the sheer terror in Dean's eyes. "You should plan on one pound to one and a half pounds per person. That'll give you plenty for sandwiches after the big feast. Oh, and I can include some casserole recipes for the leftovers. Ordinarily I'd be happy to help, 'cept I'm off for home. Da whole family's coming home ta Fargo. All fifteen of the Hanscum clan. First time in four years. I can't miss that, for sure."

"We don't want to mess up your holiday, Donna." Sam, ever the peace maker, soothed. "But if you could give us some recipes- simple recipes. Foolproof basics." Dean pulled a face at that description. His cooking skills were improving but there was no such thing as a foolproof recipe. Things could always burn. Or taste crappy. Or....

"What kind of stuffing do you boys like? Chestnut? Oyster? Sausage? Or do ya wanna grind up the innards to flavor your dressing?" Donna finally noticed the blank faces before her. "Ya do know the giblets are tucked inside, don't ya? Ya gotta pull 'em out before ya cook yer bird."

"Donna, I don't think I can do this." Dean admitted, feeling totally overwhelmed. "I can't even answer your questions, let alone make this holiday feast."

"Why sure ya can!" The midwife/culinary instructor encouraged. "It's all a matter of planning and timing. I can help ya there. Stop thinking of it as such a big deal. It's just a meal, like any other. We'll do the traditional menu. Nothing too fancy. I'll help ya work out a timetable." She smiled broadly. "Ya can do this. I promise. The secret is that ya do as much as ya can the days beforehand. Then on the big day, it's just roasting the bird and heating the side dishes." 

"You make it sound like a piece of cake." Dean scoffed, not believing it would be nearly that simple. And who ever said making cake was simple? 

Still bent over her laptop, Donna didn't catch his sarcasm. "Pie is the more traditional choice for dessert." She responded automatically. "Most folks do pumpkin or pecan."

"Pie! Now you're talking!" Dean's expression brightened. "Any reason we can't have both?"

Sam smiled. He wasn't sure why but he was suddenly confident that they would pull this off. Somehow. Their first Thanksgiving dinner might not be perfect but they'd make it work. As long as they were together they could make anything work.

*********************************************************************************************** 

"Dean, come sit down. You've been at it all day. You must be tired."

Dean barely acknowledged his partner. "Just checking the list. Gotta make sure everything is on schedule."

"Looks to me that things are ahead of schedule. And you can check the list again while you're resting. You've been on your feet all day. Come sit."

"I can't sit down. I can't cook sitting down. My creative juices can't flow." That got a raised eyebrow from Sam and brought a suggestive comeback to mind, but Sam didn't think either of them had the energy for that kind of activity tonight. 

"Dean, I'm tired. You must be too. And I have dishpan hands. I think you've used every pot and pan in Bobby 's kitchen today. Then to make matters worse, Bobby had to go dig out his Mrs.' china. And the silverware. How many damn pieces of tableware does a person need for one meal!.

"I'm glad Bobby was willing to bring it all out. It will make our dinner extra nice. I wonder how long it's been packed away. He never talks about his wife. I wonder why?"

"Unhappy memories." Sam shrugged off the question to try again. "Dean, please, sit down!"

"In a minute. Just let me check this pie. The timers almost ready to go off. I don't want it to burn.

"You made another pie?"

"I thought some of our guests might like something other than pumpkin. Or pecan. I figured apple would be a nice alternative." Dean grabbed a pair of hot mitts to ease the pie out of the oven. He smiled with satisfaction. "There! That looks good enough to eat, even if I do say so myself. Do you think four pies is enough? I don't want anyone to go hungry."

"I think four pies is plenty, plus you'll have enough leftovers to keep you satisfied for a few days afterward." Sam held his exasperation in check. Barel. "Are you done now?"

"Almost. I want to check the turkey. Do you think it will be thawed by morning? Maybe I should yank the guts out tonight. That would be one less thing to worry about tomorrow..

"Tomorrow I'll take care of the turkey. It's too heavy for you to lift" Sam snagged his arm as Dean tried to maneuver around him to get to the refrigerator. "You can supervise. You'll like telling me what to do." Sam reeled Dean in for a kiss.

"Dont fuss over me. I'm fine." Dean dismissed Sam's concerns, rambling on. "Do you think we'll have enough side dishes? Donna suggested we serve succotash. But any food that has 'suck' and 'ass' in the name can't be any good. It just ain't right." Dean continued to putter around the kitchen, gathering dirty utensils, wiping a spill from the countertop.

"Dean, enough." Sam stated firmly, in a firm but soothing tone. "You're obsessing." He pinned Dean in the corner of the cabinets. Strong arms encircled the more compact body. Sam swore he could feel his brother vibrating with nervous energy and an unhealthy dose of exhaustion. He had forgotten how single minded Dean got when on a mission. He turned Dean in his arms. "Enough." He repeated in his best Alpha voice. He sweetened the command with a kiss on those lush lips. "Enough. All the preparations are set. We'll finish in the morning. Everything will be ready by the time our guests arrive. Everything will be wonderful." Strong hands settled on the tense shoulders, began a gentle massage. Little by little, he felt Dean give way, leaning into his strength. The big hands worked down the bowed back to knead the strained muscles at the small of Dean's back.

"Ooh." Dean moaned in appreciation. "Feels good, bro." More of Dean's weight sagged into Sam's supporting arms. The green eyes were nearly closed. Dean settled his head in on the board chest.

"Let's go to bed." Sam suggested, kissing the cropped hair.

"Sorry." Dean closed his eyes, feeling fatigue swamp his body. A jaw cracking yawn forced its way out. "Too tired."

Sam moved quickly, scooping Dean off his feet. Hefting the smaller body easily, Sam carried his mate upstairs.


	37. Chapter 37

The hubbub of the holiday had dwindled down. All the guests were gone. The feasting done. The big old house was quiet except for the football game on the TV. And Bobby's intermittent snoring. Dean smiled sadly at his own reflection in the night darkened window. By all rights, he should be content, satisfied that he had faced today's challenge and survived. Some might say he'd triumphed. The day had gone well. So why, why did he feel this emptiness? Why did he have this sadness wrapped around his core.

Their guests had arrived in high spirits. Even Mrs. Tran had greeted him with a smile. Rowena along with Dr. Crowley and Fiona, the latest addition to the midwife staff, were happy to be included in their American festivities. And even the Center's omegas had cooperated. None had gone into labor today.

When Sam had carried in that picture perfect roasted turkey, the guests had responded with a chorus of oohs and aahs. That should have stroked his ego. Bobby had done a masterful job of carving the bird. And an even better job of flirting with Dragon Mama, giving Dean ample time to talk with Kevin. He actually liked the kid. Being his friend wouldn't be a hardship. Dean made a quick backhanded swipe at the corner of his right eye. He had Sam, Squiggle, Bobby and new friends. Why did he ache for more?

He sensed Sam's approach, caught his rich earthy scent, before he felt his strength against his back. "You're awfully quiet over here." Sam said softly as he kissed Dean's ear. "You okay?"

Dean shrugged, as he answered absently. "Just tired, I guess."

"I might believe that's all it is if I were only your brother. I can tell you're thinking deep thoughts. If you tell me, I might be able to help."

"Can't hide from you, can I?" Dean swallowed hard. "The gravy was lumpy. And grey. I must have forgotten some ingredient."

"It was fine."

"No, it wasn't. Next year, I'll get it right." Dean couldn't stop the fat tear that escaped. "I'll do better for Christmas."

In window's dark reflection, Sam watched the tear track down the freckled cheek. "You did great today. I'm very proud of you. So is Bobby."

"I'm glad someone is." Dean muttered over the sob caught in his throat.

Sam squeezed his shoulders. "De, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"I thought..." The sob broke free as Sam turned him within his arms. It wasn't possible for an om to deny his Alpha. "I guess, somewhere in my screwed up head, I thought if I did everything right. Made it perfect. You know... I thought maybe... Dad might show." His voice was muffled against Sam's shirt. "Maybe he'd be proud of me again."

Sam heard the voice of a little boy bereft. He hugged Dean closer. "De, I'm sure Dad's still proud of you. You've always been his good little soldier." Sam kissed the top of the bent head.

"I'm not anymore." The tears were flowing silently, steadily. "It's been more than five months since-- since they cut me. Since Dad left. In all that time he wasn't even called. For all we know, he could be dead."

"Ssh." Sam soothed. "He's alive. Bobby's caught wind of him from other hunters. He-- we didn't know if he should tell you. I thought since you weren't asking, we should leave well enough alone. I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"I-- is he okay?"

Sam sighed. "Word is he's drinking-- a lot. But he's still doing the job. He's teamed up with that prick, Gordon Walker." 

"You haven't talked to him?.

Sam recalled the heated exchange he had with John about helping Dean through his heat. Sam still hadn't forgiven their father for abandoning Dean when his son had needed him most. Sam did a quick debate with himself whether he should tell Dean about John's abdication of his Alpha responsibilities. Dean had a right to know that John could not be trusted to act in his best interests. Full disclosure was generally the best policy in a relationship. Secrets, lies had a way of coming back to kick you in the ass.

"The last time I talked to Dad was when you were you were stuck in your heat. He said I should take you back to the clinic, that they would know what to do." Sam felt Dean shudder in the shelter of his arms. That had been a bad time. It was still a painful memory.

Dean pulled back enough to wipe the wetness from his face. His chin firmed as he met Sam's concerned gaze. He didn't love easily or often but he did love deeply. He had forgiven Sam for that indignity to save his altered life. How could he not forgive his father? "I suppose I should be grateful that he knew what to do."

"We could call him." Sam suggested. "Ask him to coming here. Maybe he would dry out."

Dean laid his head back on the solidity of Sam's chest. He took comfort in the steady heartbeat.

"Naw," Dean mumbled. "If he's drowning himself in the bottle and hanging with an asshat like Gordon, it's best that he,s not here. When he hits bottom, when he asks for help, we'll be there for him. He knows that."

With a gentle touch, Sam tipped Dean's face up for a kiss. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Not in so many words." Dean reached up to twine his fingers in the shaggy hair, he pulled Sam down for a deeper kiss. "How about we go upstairs and I'll show you."

"An excellent plan."

Arms wrapped around each other, they started for the stairs. Bobby snorted loudly In the middle of a snore. Dean paused, turning back toward the living room. "Should we roust him and tell him to go to bed?"

"He's a big boy. He can take care of himself." Sam guided him back toward the stairway. Arms around each other's waists, they started up the steps. "What did you think of Dr. Crowley? You'll be seeing him for your six month appointment, you know."

Dean shrugged before offering his opinion. He had a hard time working up enthusiasm for any doctor. "He seems like an okay dude. Other oms have said he's a gentleman. Word is he warms the speculum before he shoves it in."

Sam shook his head slightly as a half laugh escaped. "Well that's faint praise if I've ever heard it."

"He gave me the evil eye when I helped myself to a second piece of pie. You can bet I'm due a lecture on nutrition and weight management."

"You tend to burn off more calories than you take in." Sam contributed, it was an ongoing concern of his.

"Maybe." Dean shrugged again, laid his head against Sam shoulder. "I've learned, if you don't expect too much, you can't be disappointed." He squeezed Sam tighter around the waist. "What'd you think of the new midwife, Princess Fiona?"

Sam laughed, a real chuckle this time. "I can guess your opinion. She seemed nice once you got past her hoity toity accent and that superior attitude."

"Oh, is that what you call the way she looked down her nose at Bobby's place."

Yeah, it is." Sam let Dean precede him into their room. He closed and locked the door at his back. Standard operating procedure in consideration of Bobby.

"Man, Rowena was on fire. A few glasses of wine really loosened her tongue. Have you heard of this reverend bastard she was going on about?" Dean asked as he slipped off his shoes. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips. His feet were killing him. Sam stepped up to massage his aching back.

"Reverend Asmodeus. He's a fire and brimstone televangelist, making a name for himself and probably pulling in mega donations crusading against the evils of omegas. If he had his way you'd all be confined to government breeding facilities and the world would return to the path of moral righteousness. One man and one woman, as God intended."

"Yeah, right, like that's going to happen!" Dean sneered. 

"His following is small but fanatical. They stage some pretty outrageous demonstrations to get press. I was more interested in the Post exposé that she mentioned." At Dean's raised eyebrow, he explained. "Maybe you were busy refrigerating the leftovers when she was talking about that." He worked Dean's shirt over his head to continue the massage. "The Washington Post has been running a series of articles, written by an undercover reporter, exposing the corruption inside the Department of Omega Services. Rowena said there was some juicy stuff. Orgies, malpractice, embezzlement. I plan to check it out in the morning."

Dean turned to face his mate. An easy smile graced his lips. "What do you have planned in the meantime?"

"The same thing you have planned, I hope." 

Sam skimmed his hands down the strong shoulders to the more generous plains of the chest. Dean's nipples peaked beneath his palms. The muscles weren't firm here now but they were far from flabby, just full and lush. Sam bent to claim a kiss as he worked his hands lower over the swell of the baby. Their tongues met, entwined. Pheromones flooded the room. Moans rose to fill the air. Clever fingers undid the band cinching Dean's pants. They slid to the floor cooperatively. Sam dipped his hands into the briefs that hung low on Dean's hips. His fingers grazed the crease of that perfect ass. The scent of slick was heady, compelling. 

Eyes unfocused by arousal, Dean managed to protest. "You are much too well dressed for what I have planned." Dean plucked at the buttons on Sam's flannel. "Help me out here, Sammy. Don't play hard to shag."

"Oh, I'm more than willing to cooperate." Sam said, pulling both shirts over his head. Before they had hit the floor, he'd undone his fly. 

Dean interrupted, snaking a talented hand into Sam's jeans to test his erection. "Oh, yeah, that's the weapon I've been looking for." Dean sank to his knees taking the denim down with him. One hand steadied the thick shaft that pulsed with each heartbeat, while the other teased through the lush nest of short and curlies. "Oh, yeah, this is where I want to be." Dean leaned forward to claim his prize with his mouth.

Sam moaned in appreciation. This was good, so good but he wanted better. Big hands combed through the short hair, settled, cradled the bobbing head into stillness. "De!" Sam moaned. "Dean, please. I want....

Words were too much to bother with. Action was easier. Sam bent to grip Dean's shoulders. He pulled him up, urged him onto their bed. Dean sprawled on his back, legs parted, belly rounded, arms reaching to pull Sam down too. Sam resisted only enough to direct his orientation. He settled beside Dean, head to toe, eager to continue where Dean had left off.

"Oh, yeah." Dean murmured as he shifted nearer. "I like your plans!" Dean groaned deep in his throat as Sam tongued his omega erection. Compared to Sam, his equipment was nothing to brag about but it was more than sufficient for this purpose. This was good, really good. Sam had a talented mouth. Dean moved, adjusting his position, eager to reciprocate.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was largely inspired by comments from Zaniida and others on the bleakness of the omega's future. I have neither the time nor the talent to overthrow the dystropian society in this A/U but I can provide a bit of hope.

"I say we forget all about it." Bobby stated vehemently. "And we both keep our mouths shut. That boy has been through a heap of hell already. This! This is just gonna throw another load of crap in his life. And it changes nothing. Not a damn thing."

Sam was equally passionate that he was right. "Bobby! How can you say that? Dean has a right to know. This is his life!" We can't just keep quiet. I can't. If I do Dean will never forgive me!"

"You're only going to be dragging up old pain. Dean is in a good place right now. Why can't we just leave well enough alone? You shouldn't go pulling scabs off healing hurts."

"And I say that Dean deserves the vindication of knowing that what he suffered through wasn't for nothing. Maybe, just maybe, this exposé is going to make a difference. Crusading Angel has opened the nation's eyes to the abuse of omegas. There are demands for a federal investigation. Mark my words, Bobby, heads are going to roll."

"Just you make sure that one of those heads ain't our boy's!"

"Why," a quiet voice interjected from the kitchen doorway, "Why are, you two worrying about my head on this fucking frigid morning? It's my fingers and toes that are icicles. And my nose! Man, it's colder than a ghost's aura, out there. Don't know that I can survive this South Dakota winter."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, I get that. You and Bobby were going at it pretty good. I didn't try to sneak in. And I've got no idea what this is all about but it's pretty clear that it involves me." He planted himself directly in front of his brother and challenged with a smile. "So spill it, Sammy."

"Dean, I don't want to upset you."

"Then stop pussyfooting around. I don't like secrets. Not between you and me. You know I'll find out eventually. And then I'll only be even more pissed."

Sam nodded in agreement. He had experienced the righteous wrath of his big brother more than once. "It's the latest article by Crusading Angel. I think you should read it." Dean's eyes narrowed. He didn't like where this was going. Sam had been avidly following the series of articles. Dean had chosen to ignore it. "I think it pertains to you."

"You're joking. I can tell you for a fact that there were no angels, crusading or otherwise, anywhere near me in any of those damn clinics."

"I'm not saying the article is about you specifically. I just think the experiences he describes are very similar to what you underwent. It explains a lot of things. It also raises a lot of questions. I think you should read it. You have the right to know." Sam indicated the dining room table where his computer sat, booted up and cued to the Post's exposé

 

Dean sat motionless, his back ramrod straight. Nothing moved but those sharp green eyes and his index finger on the mouse ball. The cup of cocoa, Bobby had thoughtfully provided, sat cooling, as line after line of text scrolled over the screen. All Dean's attention was focused on that screen. As he read, color had drained from Dean's face. The longer he sat motionless, emotionless, the more concerned Sam and Bobby grew.

The words, the hateful sentences finally ended. Dean scrolled up, back to the photo above the fold. It was an attention grabber, alright. Sure to boost sales. Controversial. Sensational. Some might even call it outrageous. Or for the artsy F artsy crowd, artistic, in its stark black and white pixels. Bile rose in his throat. It wasn't obscene. No dangling bits were exposed. Simply the hooded figure of an omega bound to a breeding bench. It made Dean want to puke.

Finally, Dean closed the laptop. He rose from the chair. "I'll be in my shop." He said quietly, picking up the jacket he had draped over the back of a neighboring chair. 

Sam stopped his exit with a hand on his arm. "Dean, are you okay? We should talk about this! Are you...."

"What do you want me to say? Am I supposed to get hysterical? Scream? Cry? Threaten to slash my wrists?" Dean jerked his arm free. "That" He flung a dismissive hand toward the computer, "ain't news to me. All that shit he says those sons of bitches are doing, yeah that's all true. But him writing about it does squat. And, me, I've got no leverage to fight back. Never did, never will. And even if I did what good would it do. It won't change a fucking thing." He threw his jacket to the floor in disgust. "What do you want from me, Sammy?"

"Dean," Sam stepped up to grip his shoulders, "There's an editorial, too. This reporter through his editor is offering to turn over documentation to the authorities. He is willing to testify to the abuses he witnessed. He's not just writing a sad story for personal glory. His aim is to see the offenders prosecuted and to effect changes in the system. You might feel powerless but this reporter is speaking out for you. For all the omegas. He's given you a voice."

Dean heard what his brother was saying. He could even appreciate the passion and moral outrage that burned in Sam. That Sam could feel so deeply was why he thought Sam should pursue his dream, go to college and become the lawyer he wanted to be. But he still didn't see what good this did for him.

"What he describes-- targeting attractive surgical candidates, prescribing megadoses of hormones to induce prolonged heats, selling access to unaware omegas. Dean, all of that could have happened to you. The doctor in Canton may have done that to you.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean answered his voice flat, emotionless. "So what? I ain't gonna be the poster child for omega abuse. Just leave me the hell alone." Dean snatched his coat from the floor. "I'll be in my shop." 

As Dean fled the comfort of their home, Sam made an effort to follow him. Bobby held him back with a firm grip on his shoulder. "Let him go, Sam." The older man said sorrowfully. "He needs some time. He needs some space. That was a whole heap of shit to dump on him. Don't expect him to thank you for stirring up bad memories."

"Bobby, I've still got the tube of hormone cream they sent home with Dad. I still have the plug. If I take them to Dr. Crowley, he might be able to tell us if Dean..."

"...If Dean was the victim of medical malpractice, collusion, forced prostitution, and hell, I don't know what other crimes! The operative word here is 'victim'. That isn't easy for a man like your brother to swallow."

"But if we don't speak up, bring evidence forward to support this reporter, then how will it ever change? Who's going to stop them? Everyday more omegas suffer."

"I hear what you are saying. And for the record, I agree. And I'm betting that given a chance, Dean will too. He knows right from wrong. He grew up protecting the innocent. That fire still burns in his gut. He'll want to do the right thing. But you've got to give him a chance to come to terms with this first. In his own way. At his own speed." Bobby picked up the cold, untouched mug of cocoa. He stared down at the dark liquid. "I thought... I figured it wasn't an easy thing to have done to you but," the Beta looked up at Sam, his eyes brimming with grief, "I never suspected anything like that!"

Sam gave no response. He hadn't realized what hell he had authorized when he signed that waiver. Was he pushing Dean now to assuage his own guilt? Sam raked his fingers through his long hair. Crap! Life was never easy!

 

The ring of metal striking metal testified to Dean's whereabouts. Sam went where the din originated. Dean had stripped off his winter coat in the warmth of his garage. He'd rolled up his sleeves to pound dents out of a vintage fender against the shaping block. Sweat soaked his hair, his shirt. His face was still pale, his gaze focused on the task at hand. While Sam watched, the pace faltered, no doubt Dean had scented him. 

Dean cursed, the muscles in his arm cramping in protest. He knew he was pushing his body beyond reasonable demands. Fatigue was swamping him but rage still held sway. The hammer glanced off the target, doing more damage than good. Balancing his anger with concern for the baby, Dean paused. A rush of fresh, chill air warned that he had company, he set the hammer aside reluctantly. He resisted the urge to fling the fender against the wall. He was an adult after all. His hand trembled slightly as he rested it on his belly, he was soon to be a parent. It was past time to be a mature, responsible--The scent of leather and woodsmoke flooded his senses. Dean looked up to see Sam in the doorway. Shit! And double shit, he didn't want Sam to see him like this. He didn't need another lecture! 

Sam held his silence. He stepped up to take Dean in his arms. He gathered the more compact body against his own. Heat, hurt rolled off Dean. Burying his face in the crook of Sam's neck, Dean melted against the solidity of his mate. Sam stroked up and down his back, hard hands sweeping gently over the sweat slick muscles. 

"Sorry," Sam murmured, "I didn't mean to hurt you. Just thought you should know."

"Yeah, I get that. I just...." Dean's shoulders rose and fell in defeat. "I just want to be normal, maybe happy, for at least a few days. You know how it is?"

"Yeah, I know." Sam answered quietly. He tilted Dean's head back to claim a kiss. "Tell you what- lets table all the crap. Bobby had a suggestion. He knows a guy- a nice, normal guy- owns a tree farm. Specifically a Christmas tree farm. We just drag down a couple of dust covered boxes of decorations from the attic. How about we go pick out a tree to go with them?

"I'd like that." Dean smiled. A real smile that cleared the shadows from his eyes. "Thanks, Sam."

"Thank Bobby. It was his idea. It's scary sometimes, how well he does domestic bliss."

#########################################################################

"This is John Winchester. Leave a name and a number. I'll get back to you if I can." Beep.

"John, it's Bobby. I know what I said. I was wrong. You may be a sorry excuse for a father but you are their father. They need you. Damnit! The idjits love you. It would mean a lot to them if you were here. Don't be an ass, John, you're going to be a grandfather soon. Don't let your pigheaded pride stand in the way of doing right by your boys."

#########################################################################

 

"Are you going to be warm enough?"

"Stop fussing over me. I'm fine. If I was any warmer, I'd melt."

"Bobby said they take you out to the field in an open wagon pulled by a tractor. It's going to be cold. I don't want you to catch a cold or worse."

"You're just worried about the baby." Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "Squiggle is tucked in nice and snug."

A crooked smile shaped Sam's lips. "I'm not just worried about the baby. If you get a cold, that screws up our screwing schedule something awful."

"Thanks a lot, Sammy. I love you too."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

 

"That one! It's perfect!"

"Dean, it's got be fifteen feet tall!"

"But look how full and green it is. It's perfect. And Bobby's house has tall ceilings." Dean beamed at the designated evergreen.

Sam had eyes only for his brother. Rosy cheeks and a runny red nose shouldn't make those eyes any more alluring, but they seemed the perfect accent. As did the mismatched scarf and knit hat that Bobby had pulled from the hall closet before shooing them out the door. Standing in a field of knee deep snow, surrounded by evergreens of all shapes and sizes, Dean was so appealing that Sam had trouble keeping his mind focused.

Hefting the bow saw, Sam reminded himself of the task at hand. "You're sure this is the one?"

"No, you're right. It's too big. Lets look over here." Dean started off once more in search of the perfect Christmas tree.

Gamely, Sam followed, the saw slung over his shoulder. Only the wind heard him mutter, "Now I know why Bobby stayed home. Where it's warm. Where it's dry..."

 

"You boys did a good job. That's a mighty fine tree!" Bobby stepped back to admire the fir filling the bay window alcove. It'd been a long time since his place had had a tree for the holidays- hell, it been decades since his house had so much as a piece of tinsel twinkling anywhere. But it looked good. It looked right. Especially when you added in Dean, glowing and ripening, wrapped in Sam's strong arms, both of them grinning to beat the band. 

"Now that you got it all set up, are you going to just stand there or are you going to decorate it. The lights should go on first. I think they're in that box. I'm going to go make some popcorn."

"None for me, Bobby. I'm not hungry." Sam said.

Bobby scowled at him as he headed for the kitchen, his words trailing over his shoulder. "It's not for eating, you idjit. You string it to decorate the tree. I got cranberries too. Don't you two know anything?!"

"Should we tell him we've never done this before?" Dean asked quietly, seriously.

Sam shook his shaggy head. "No, it would only make him grumpier. And pissed at Dad that this is our first real Christmas tree."

"I never heard you complain about my coat hanger trees." Sam hugged Dean tighter, remembering the years he had tried so hard to make the holidays special for them, for him. Usually with the questionable results. More often than not, their father had been absent for the big day. And even when he had been around, he'd been lost in his liquor. Sam vowed to make this year the best ever. Perfect. Unconsciously, he tightened his hold. Dean squawked in protest. "Careful of the cargo! You're squeezing my stuffings out, Sasquatch!"

"Sorry!" Sam eased his grip and gave Dean a quick kiss of contrition. "Come on let's get started. I want to figure this out before Bobby comes back."

########################################################################

"This is John Winchester. Leave a name and number. I'll get back to you if I can." Beep

"Dad, it's Sam... Dean and I are with Bobby... If you can, it would mean a lot to Dean... to both of us, if you could come for Christmas. I know you're busy. I know you're hunting. But... Well... Try, if you can. Okay?"

########################################################################

 

Dean dressed quickly, quietly. He pulled on a pair of briefs, then sweatpants, adjusting the drawstring to give Squiggle his space. He topped off his wardrobe with a baggy sweatshirt, big enough for Sam and thrust his feet into the slippers Sam insisted he wear. He paused to consider his brother, sprawled across their bed in deep sleep. Dean didn't know when Sam had joined him during the night. He had stayed up to finish some mysterious project when Dean had gone up to bed. Dean had been more than a little disappointed, figuring he had a good chance for a Christmas Eve knotting. He had tried to stay awake, waiting for Sam but it had been another long day.

Dean slipped out of their room. He could hear Bobby sawing logs in the front bedroom. Pleased with himself, Dean started down the stairs in the predawn darkness. He flipped on the foyer light as he made his way into the living room. He could see the tree silhouetted against the yard light shining outside the window. He could make out the mound of presents at its base. Dean steadied himself with a grip on the window frame as he went to his knees. It might not be his most graceful move but he got down on his hands and knees, found the plug and slotted it into the socket. Over his bent body the tree blazed to glory. Dean sat back on his heals, the bulge of the baby supported on his knees. An ear to ear grin split his face. They had done good!

Awkwardly, Dean got to his feet. His hands came to rest naturally on the his baby bump. "Merry Christmas, Baby!" He whispered softly. Life was good. He was happy with Sam, living here with Bobby. But...

Dean settled into the beat up recliner that Bobby normally favored. He picked up the nearest cell phone. The number came automatically.

 

#########################################################################

"This is John Winchester. Leave a name and a number. I'll get back to you if I can." Beep.

#########################################################################

 

Dean hit the disconnect button before he said a word. There was no point trying to change this Winchester holiday tradition. "Merry Christmas, Dad." Dean said to the empty room. He heaved a huge sigh. He had a choice here. He could give in to his funk, and ruin the day for all of them. Or... He could appreciate what he had and enjoy his life.

Dean pulled the granny square afghan over his legs. He pushed back to raise the foot rest and settled in to enjoy the glow of the tree and the quiet as the day awoke. He could be a grownup and wait patiently to tear into those presents. At least he hoped he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected to write thirty eight chapters on this story. That I have put together more than eighty thousand (!!!!) words to tell Dean's story boggles my mind. I'd like to think the end is in sight but I originally thought there would be ten, maybe twelve chapters. So what do I know. The more I write the more HazelDomain's characters speak to me. The good news is that experience has also streamlined my writing process. I still make notes on pen and paper, jotting down a good line or concept but I'm largely writing on the computer now. Hopefully there is no noticeable decrease in quality.
> 
> If anyone is interested I have posted another story on the omega experience, based on Anonymous__ID's story, 'Every Dog His Day'. My new story is titled, 'My Name Is Dean'.


	39. Chapter 39

The minute they hit the Omega Center's entrance, Kevin Tran made a beeline for Dean and Sam. 

"He's fucking skipping!" Dean muttered under his breath as the Asian teen glided across the floor.

Sam swallowed his laugh. Dean was having a bad day. Kevin's obvious energy was bound to grate on his brother. Now into his third trimester, Dean was really starting to feel the weight of the baby, tiring more easily than he liked to admit. Dean was running low on energy this day after the big holiday. And maybe, just maybe his mate was feeling a little post holiday depression as well. Dean hadn't said it but Sam had caught his gaze wandering to the front door repeatedly. He'd seen him check his cell phone for the message that wasn't there. Damn John for disappointing his eldest son once again.

"Dean! Dean! Did you hear?" Kevin bubbled over, throwing his arms around his friend in a one sided hug. Sam caught the slight flinch Dean made. No doubt Dean would pass off his discomfort as embarrassment at the innocent PDA. Sam would concede that but he suspected there was more. Dean was moving gingerly, perhaps he'd strained his back. He had spent much of Christmas Day puttering around the newly painted nursery, that had been Bobby's present to Squiggle and rearranging the IKEA crib and changing table that had been Sam's. Dean didn't complain, he never did. Not even when a monster or a demon had beat him to a pulp. Lord knows Sam had seen it more than once. He knew the signs: the subtle winches, the sharp intakes of breath, the damned stoicism. Dean was hurting. Suffering. Hopefully this morning's yoga session would stretch those aching muscles. And maybe even bring a measure of peace. 

Kevin went on, oblivious the Dean's pain, his enthusiasm undiminished. "Did you hear? Ash had his baby. Born Christmas Eve. A little boy. Well, not so little, actually. Really kind of big. Eight pounds, ten ounces, twenty-two inches long. Can you imagine?" Kevin stepped back to lay both hands on his own small baby bump. At barely four months, he wasn't showing much. Yet. "The baby was born just seventeen minutes before midnight. And Ash only had four hours of labor! The lucky stiff! I hope mine goes that quick. Oh! Hi, Sam!" The teen finally added as an afterthought to the Alpha.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" The younger omega continued without missing a beat. "Did you get lots of presents?" Kevin didn't give Dean a chance to tell him about the crib or the nursery or the soft charcoal grey sweater that Sam said made his eyes even greener. Kevin barreled on, secure in his own excitement. "My Christmas was the best! Mom surprised me! She flew in my best friend. We've known each other, like, forever! Since we were just little kids. He's a great guy." Kevin tugged Dean's arm as he started to reverse his course. "You'll like him! I know you will! Come on, I want you to meet him." Kevin kept rambling on as he headed back toward the tall young man trying to look inconspicuous across the room.

"When does he breathe?" Sam spoke into Dean's ear. He set a slower pace in deference to Dean's condition. "I've never heard that kid say more than three words before this."

Dean answered with a small grin, "I think he's excited. This must be some friend to make him this happy."

"Do you think this is his baby daddy?" 

"No. But maybe he's Kevin's Alpha."

 

Kevin might not have talked much with Sam but he had confided the heartache of his baby's conception to Dean. He had also sworn Dean to secrecy, making him promise to not even tell Sam. Dean felt for the kid. He promised. And he kept his word.

Dean knew from his experience that becoming an altered omega wasn't an easy transition. From Kevin's story he also understood that a natural transition could be equally traumatic. Poor Kevin. Poor brilliant, genius Kevin. At just sixteen, he'd been living his dream. Two years ahead of his class, he'd already been accepted into MIT for the fall term. Excited didn't begin to describe his state of mind. Blissed out, naive, stupid, you could apply all those adjectives and more. A summer seminar for advance placement students was scheduled. Genius camp, was how Dean labeled it in his own mind (not that he had ever been to any kind of camp).

Kevin had been so excited. He'd been counting down the days and unfortunately paying little attention to his own body. It was stupid, maybe deliberate denial of reality but Kevin didn't notice his balls were shrinking, retracting into his abdominal cavity. He didn't notice that his hole was moist most mornings. Nor did he acknowledge his erratic emotions due to hormonal fluctuations. Kevin and his mother just assumed it was normal teen angst. Little did they know what was to come when Mrs. Tran dropped Kevin off at the MIT campus with a kiss and a wish that he have fun.

Forty eight hours later, Mrs. Tran got a phone call from the university. Kevin had presented as an omega. Not only was he a natural omega, he was in full blown heat, being banged by every Alpha nerd at the seminar, both student and professor. By the time she got to the campus, four professors were arguing over who would claim the new omega, who lay naked and knocked up at their feet. Mrs. Tran did the only thing a mother could- she grabbed Kevin, bundled him into her car and ran as far and as fast as she could. From that day she became Dragon Mama, ruthlessly fending off all comers to protect her son.

 

"Dean, Sam, this is my friend, Adam Milligan. Adam, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They and their friend, Bobby, have been good friends to Mom and I. They helped us find and move into our apartment. And Bobby hooked Mom up with a job. She can't be an accountant of course, not like she was in New York. Not unless she takes the South Dakota licensing exam. She's thinking doing it. But she'll have to study up-"

"Kevin." Adam interrupted in a controlled deep voice that belied his youthful appearance. He ran a soothing hand down the young omega's arm. "You're running off at the mouth. Relax. It's alright."

Kevin blushed prettily, sidling closer to Adam. "Sorry." He peeked up from under his bangs at the taller young man. "I guess I'm nervous. I just- I hope you can be friends. I- you all matter a lot to me."

"Nice to meet you, Adam." Sam reached out to shake the younger Alpha's hand. "Do you live in New York?"

"I did. I grew up in Schnectady with Kevin. But now I go to the University of Minnesota. I'm in the veterinary program. Just finished my first semester."

"Minnesota, that's a good school. Vet school is tough. Med school without the glory."

"Yeah, but if I make it, my patients will be cute and furry rather than crabby and complaining."

"That's why Sam wants to go to law school. Crabby and complaining sue for big bucks!" Dean put in, earning a guffaw from Adam and a frown from his mate. "Just kidding. Sam's going to right the injustices in the world. He's going to make a difference." Dean spoke with such conviction that no one doubted his statement. In the lull of their conversation, a gathering in front of the reception desk drew all their attention.

"Looks like Rowena's leading another grand tour." Sam commented. They'd seen it before. The Omega Center and midwifery were such unique concepts in the U.S. that they got lots of press and curiosity. "What do you think? Potential patients, patrons or press?"

Dean took an involuntary step toward the group. Sharp eyes narrowed as he studied the individuals. "I don't think it's either." Dean couldn't say why but out of the group of ten, his attention was fixed on one guy- tall, rangy with tussled dark hair. Maybe it was just the rumpled trench coat that made him stand out. Maybe it was more.

The man must have felt Dean's eyes upon him. He turned. Startling blue eyes locked with green.

Blue. The memory escaped him but Dean knew he had looked into those eyes before. He had seen this man before-- Where? When? Why couldn't he remember?

"Sam? The guy in the coat. Do you know him? He seems familiar. But I can't place him."


	40. Chapter 40

"Good to see you again, Dean." Dr. Crowley began as he stepped into the exam room. He extended his hand to shake Dean's then Sam's. "Sam, thank you again for your hospitality at your harvest feast."

Sam smiled. He genuinely liked the guy. He hoped Crowley didn't turn out to be a dickwad like the other doctors they had encountered. The fact that he spoke directly to omegas and made social gestures to them too, spoke in his favor. Add in the factor that he was Rowena's son, how could he be a total asshole?

"Well, let's see. You are here today for your sixth month check up. Any questions? Any concerns?" He eyed the expectant pair, a slight smile gracing his bearded face.

Dean shrugged, leary of trusting anyone in the medical profession. Sam wanted to confide in this man, tell him all the sorted details of his omega experience. Dean frankly didn't see the point. What good could it possibly do? It might earn him a small dose of pity or a larger one of disgust but it couldn't change anything. It was best, safest to keep his mouth shut and bury the bad memories. Dwelling on disappointments and past hurts got you nowhere fast.

Sam looked to Dean. He wanted to tell Dr. Crowley about Dean's prolonged heat and how Dr. Roberts had 'helped' his brother. He wanted to get his opinion on that course of treatment. But Dean had vetoed his plan quite vehemently. Sam had no choice but to respect his mate's decision.

Dr. Crowley watched the unspoken byplay with dark intelligent eyes. He suspected something was going on between the pair. He had found that trust was often an issue with expectant Alpha/omega couples. He would have to earn their trust. Which would take time. Best do his job and see how their doctor/patient relationship developed. He opened Dean's chart and made a quick review of the readings he had studied earlier.

"Overall, your health and your baby's look very good. Heart rate, blood pressure, blood work are all in the optimal range. No indications of gestational diabetes or anemia. Your weight," The doctor noted Dean closed his eyes and took in a quick breath, as if anticipating a scolding, "is actually on the low side. In this last trimester, Baby will be gaining weight rather dramatically. Your need for calories, nutritious fuel for Baby's growth and your body's maintenance is paramount."

"I feel as big as a house." Dean griped. "Can hardly bend over to put on my shoes and socks."

"That's to be expected." The doctor reassured. "And I'm sorry to say it will only get worse. Right now your little One only weighs a bit over one pound. Ideally Baby will put on five or six times that amount in the next 12 weeks. Your appetite should increase. Small frequent meals will be easiest for digestion. A balanced diet. Lots protein and calcium. Vegetables and fruit, fiber is essential to keep your bowels regular. " He saw Dean's glum expression, his quick glance at his smug physically fit Alpha. Aye, it was easy to see the pair had had this discussion previously. And he remembered Dean's exuberance at the harvest feast. "It is important that you take your fetal vitamins. But an occasional treat to feed the soul, is not uncalled for. Just be sure such indulgences are not a daily thing. Quality calories, not empty calories are the rule."

"Yes, Doctor." Dean answered meekly, green eyes glowing with a private victory. One glance at Sam, showed the Alpha had been taken down a peg. Oh my, thought Crowley, had he unleashed the hounds? He looked again at the young Alpha. He suspected there was sufficient strength of character and true affection there to curb this omega's headstrong tendencies. 

"Just don't overdo." The doctor cautioned. "Moderation." He consulted the chart again. "According to your chart, you had an amniocentesis at 15 weeks but there is no record of a review of the results with you."

Sam spoke up. "We were offered the opportunity to enroll in the midwife program after that. We figured that meant the baby was healthy. That was the only result that mattered to us. We never went back to Dr. Metatron for the rest."

The doctor nodded in understanding. Crowley had had the dubious pleasure of making the acquaintance of his counterpart at the Omega Services Clinic. The man minded his manners and all but Crowley couldn't help but feel the need for a shower after each encounter. Or at the very least a drop, or two, of Craige.

"Well, you are correct. The amnio showed no genetic defects or congenital deformities. The paternity test..."

"We don't want to know," Sam broke in hurriedly. "This is Dean's baby. That's the only thing that matters. Dean's baby is mine, no matter who provided the semen."

"That's an admirable sentiment. One I commend." Crowley liked this pair. He made a quick calculated decision. "But it really doesn't apply to this situation. The DNA analysis confirms you are the father, Sam. There is no doubt."

The news brought no change to Sam's stoic countenance but the Doctor was sure he detected a subtle wave of relief pass through his omega patient. Technically he could be rebuked for disregarding the Alpha's request but he thought it unlikely there would be a complaint filed.

"Do you want to know Baby's gender?" He continued. 

"No!" Alpha and omega answered in unison. Each looked at the other. In truth they had never discussed learning the sex of their baby before birth. Somehow Dean just figured any Winchester would be male. He assumed Sam agreed. There was just too much testosterone in the family to consider any other possibility. "No thanks, Doctor." Sam explained. "We'll wait and be surprised."

"As you wish." Crowley agreed readily. "Shall we proceed with the examination? If you will lie back, Dean."

Dean hesitated, confused. "Don't- don't you want me to strip first?" He asked sheepishly.

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, his mouth quirked in a odd smile. "Well as delightful as that may be, it is hardly necessary for today's exam. Unless you have a concern, I'll not be checking your channel. Just a bit of hands on. Raising your shirt should serve our purpose."

"Okay... Sure." Dean couldn't help but be suspicious. With Sam's assistance, he eased himself onto his back. Crowley pulled an extension out of the exam table to support his legs.

"It'll take some of the strain off your back, if you bend your knees." Dean followed the instruction and relaxed a bit against the padded surface. Sam hovered protectively at his side. Dr. Crowley waited patiently as Dean unbuttoned his oversized flannel shirt and folded back his tee shirt to expose his rounded abdomen.

"If I may?" The Doctor asked politely. He waited for Dean's nod of acquiescence before placing his hands on the warm dome of flesh. Fingers pressed gently, moving from the centerline down one side then the other. "Very good. Good pelvic expansion. The uterus is well positioned in the pelvic cradle. I can see that you been conscientious in your exercises. That will serve you well in labor and delivery." He placed his hand on Dean's pubic bone and warned, "A bit of pressure now." 

Dean managed to contain a small gasp of pain but Crowley read his discomfort. The pressure released immediately. "My apologies." He offered sincerely. "Regrettably, at times a doctor must hurt to heal or assess."

"No big deal." Dean answered with bravado. Sam griped his hand, his mouth set in a grim line.

"The pubis is unfused, free floating, if you will. An excellent indication that your body can handle a full term gestation without undue stress. As well as deliver without complications."

"That's reassuring." Sam responded. He couldn't help but worry about his brother. Dean would face an increasing ordeal in the final months of this pregnancy. Sam wished he could do something, anything to spare his brother from more suffering but wisely knew he could not.

Crowley smiled at the pair. "Now that we've done the hands on. Shall we have a look see?" He flipped a switch, activating the ultrasound machine.

"You're the doctor." Dean conceded, feeling a small measure of trust toward the Scotsman. 

"Indeed, I am." Crowley picked up a bottle of lubricating gel. "This will be cold." He warned as he squeezed a generous amount onto Dean's bare belly. He exchanged the bottle for the diagnostic tool and used that to evenly spread the cool gel over warm flesh. The doctor flicked a couple more switches. The machine's screen lit up. A steady, rapid wooshing noise filled the exam room. "That's Baby's heartbeat. Nice and strong." He moved the paddle in increasing circles as grainy images wavered on the screen. Dr. Crowley slowed his motions, made small adjustments. "Aye, there's a pretty picture." He held the tool steady as he adjusted the angle of the screen so both Sam and Dean could see it. "Sam, Dean meet your little one! Baby looks to be quite content." He pressed a button. The machine spit out a printout. "A souvenir for Baby's book." He explained as he passed the glossy colored photo to Sam, who absently accepted it. Neither he nor Dean could take their eyes off the screen that showed Squiggle contentedly sucking on his thumb.

Dr. Crowley smiled warmly at the pair. At moments like this there was no better job in the world.


	41. Chapter 41

Half awake, Sam stretched his length with instinctive care, ever mindful of his sleeping mate. Eyelids parting, he smiled at the sight beside him. Dean, eyes closed in slumber, long lashes brushing gold splattered cheeks, lush lips parted in little snores, was a beautiful sight in the dim light of a Midwest winter morning. A yawn escaped Sam as he remembered, this was not just any day, this was New Year's Day. The start of a new year, their first full year together as more than brothers. Sam reached out to gently rest his fingertips on the bulge at Dean's midsection, as parents.

Sam lay quietly, contemplating the changes that had occurred in his life, their lives in the year just passed. He wasn't surprised that he was soon to be a parent. He had anticipated having Dean's baby for what seemed like half his life. For as long as he could remember, he had thought he would be Dean's omega, the carrier of their children. And then the world, his world, their world had been turned upside down. He had presented not as an omega but an Alpha. Decisions had been made. Sacrifices had been made. He had been raised, trained to give the ultimate sacrifice: his life to protect his father or his brother. Now he realized, after watching all that Dean had suffered through, death wasn't the ultimate sacrifice. Living with the shit life threw at you, was. Dean had sacrificed his masculinity, his Alpha nature for him. Sam's heart swelled. He could not love Dean more. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of Dean's head.

Dean stirred in his sleep, moving closer to his mate. Sam shifted, opening his arms. Dean snuggled against his chest, still wrapped in sleep. With Dean safe in his embrace, Sam was content to stay like this forever. He smiled into the growing dawn. Life was good.

Dean's nose twitched. Something was tickling his nose. He moved sleepily, trying to evade the irritant. No good. He wrinkled his nose, sleep slipping away. His hand came up intending to brush the offender away but met warm, solid flesh. Sam! Dean's eyes popped open. He planted a kiss on a rock hard pec and noticed the silky hairs only recently sprouted around the nipple. His Alpha was growing into his genes. Dean grinned impishly, plucking at the offending strands. Sam startled, trying but failing to hold still. Another kiss to soothe, Dean tipped his head back to smile up at his handsome mate. 

"Dude," He began his voice rough from sleep, "Getting furry here. Maybe you really are Sasquatch."

"Very funny." Sam dipped down to claim those luscious lips. "Just my Alpha responding to my amazing omega." Sam ran a hand over the swells and curves to the nexus of his partner. But Dean pulled away.

"Sorry, man, gotta pee. The kid is sitting on my bladder."

Sam laughed, shaking his shaggy head. "Go!" He opened his arms, releasing his pregnant mate. "I'll keep your place warm."

Dean eased backward, then rolled onto his back. He grimaced, the new position increased the pressure and the need to go. Shit! He managed to shift to his other side. With the use of his arms, he levered himself upright, his feet dropping off the bed to the floor. Grunting at the effort needed, Dean made it to his feet. Naked, he padded across the room to the adjoining bath.

Sam listened absentmindedly as Dean took care of business. He returned with an exaggerated shiver and a complaint about the cold tile floors. "Get back in bed. I'll warm you up. Fast!"

"I like the way you think, little brother." Dean answered with a grin as he settled back into their bed. "Let's celebrate the New Year with a bang!"

 

"You know Kevin is going to be a pain in the ass today." Sam said as they drove to the Omega Center.

"Why should today be any different?" Dean laughed, feeling good behind the wheel of his Baby.

"You know why. Adam went back to Minnesota yesterday. Kevin going to be depressed as all get out."

"Well you were the one complaining about him talking your ear off. You shouldn't mind now if things return to normal."

"Just park the car. There is no normal with that kid. He's all hormones!"

"Which is why you should be glad you have such a perfect om." Dean countered, turning off the ignition. He sent a sweet sarcastic smile Sam's way before opening the driver's door. Sam moved quickly, exiting the passenger side and rounding the car before Dean managed to get out. Sam didn't make the mistake of offering a hand, as Dean maneuvered to get out from behind the steering wheel. Dean had his pride after all. And he had gotten chewed out often enough about coddling him. He wouldn't make that mistake again, at least not in public.

Dean pocketed the Impala's keys as he finally got his feet on the ground. As much as he didn't like to admit it, it wasn't getting any easier fitting his belly behind the wheel lately. None of the other omegas still drove a car, even those like Kevin who were barely showing. Dean hated the thought of losing one more bit of his independence. He had jokingly stated that he had to keep in practice so he drive himself to the clinic to deliver. Like Sammy would let that happen.

"Hey, is that Ash's van?" Dean nodded toward the ancient VW van parked near the door. 

"You should know. You put a muffler on that pile of rust." Sam answered his breath showing in the frosty air as he matched his pace to Dean's.

"Come on. He must have brought the baby in for his first checkup."

"Slow down, Dean. They're not going to disappear. Watch out for icy patches."

"I'm pregnant, not stupid! Stop nagging me." 

Sam sighed. It seemed he couldn't win.

 

Ash broke into a wide grin as the pair approached. "Hey, Dean, Sam! Good to see you!" 

Dean hurried forward as fast as his bow legged gait could manage. Dean gripped his friend's shoulder. "Hey, Ash, man, how are you doing?"

"I'm great. Haven't quite got my boyish figure back yet but I'm feeling good. I was telling these prima donnas to do their pelvic tilts and meditation if they want an easy delivery."

Dean nodded, accepting his advice. He reached out toward the small bundle held in a colorful sling against Ash's chest. "And the baby?

"Doc C says he's perfect." He laid a gentle hand on the small bundle. "Want a peek?" Ash drew the fabric aside to reveal a tiny angelic face, eyes closed in peaceful slumber and a Cupid's bow mouth instinctively sucking on nothing. Seeing the tender look on his friend's face, Ash hurried to explain, "I'd let you hold him- get some practice, you know, before your own gets here- but Doc said not to pass him around like a hot potato. You know, germs and all that."

"No, don't worry about that. It's fine. He's right where he belongs, with his om." Dean managed to tear his gaze away from the new life to ask. "What did you name him?"

Ash smiled widely, running both hands through his long hair. "Had quite a time deciding that." He glanced over his shoulder at the trio of Alphas guarding his back. "Everyone had a favorite. And no one wanted to give in." His grin grew even more. "Then I suggested Rowan. And Rowan it is!" Ash brushed a finger over the baby's crown. "I don't know if this fizz will last but he's starting out as a carrot top, at least. And we all agreed it was a fitting way to thank Rowena."

"There he is again. Freaking Old Blue Eyes!"

"Sinatra's here! Must be his ghost because I'm pretty sure he died years ago."

"Very funny, jackass. You know who I mean. The ghoul watching us from the corner." Dean shuddered, turning his back on the tall, dark haired man.

"Yeah, I know who you mean. Why does he bother you so much?"

Dean shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "He just creeps me out. I don't know why. Seems like he's always watching us. Holds himself apart. It's like he's inspecting us. I don't know, like we're bugs for him to play with."

Sam ran a soothing hand down Dean's arm, took his hand to entangle their fingers. "Maybe," Sam began thoughtfully, "Maybe he's just trying to figure out how to fit in. How to make a friend. Maybe we should go introduce ourselves."

Dean didn't respond for a moment or two as he considered Sam's suggestion. "Do you always have to be so damn smart?"

"Someone in the family should use his brain, more than his brawn."

Dean made a face at his smug brother. "Come on, bitch."

"Right behind you, jerk." Sam smiled to himself as he followed Dean across the lounge. Somethings never changed. He would always have Dean's back.

 

"Hi, I'm Dean. This is my Alpha brother, Sam Winchester." Dean raised his chin, green eyes leveling on the cool blue. "You're new here. We thought we'd be the welcoming committee and come over and say hello."

"It's nice to meet you both." The dark haired man's voice was surprisingly gruff. "I'm Jim- Jimmy Castiel."

"You don't look like a Jimmy." Dean challenged. He heard Sam hiss his name, cautioning him with a breath.

"My friends call me Cas." He didn't miss how the omega's eyes narrowed at that.

"What are you doing here, Jimmy?" Dean caught Sam rolling his eyes at him in his peripheral vision. He didn't care if he was pushing. He wanted to know what was up with this guy.

"Rowena hired me as a counselor. " Castiel answered, trying to keep his tone even, not defensive. "I have a Master's in Social Work. And I'm a registered nurse. I'm here to apprentice as a midwife."

"Trying to cover all the angles. You sound too good to be true. 

"Dean!" Sam broke in. "You're being rude."

Castiel's eyes narrowed with concern. Was it possible that this omega remembered him? Was his cover blown? He had been worried that the Alpha might recognize him and question his presence. But it seemed that the Alpha hadn't spared a glance for the attendant who had escorted his heat spent omega from the treatment room. The omega couldn't possibly recall him, not with the dose of propoful he had been given, amnesia was guaranteed side effect.

Dean continued undeterred. "I don't believe in that boo hoo, cry on my shoulder shit. If you've got a problem deal with it. Don't whine about it."

"Some people," Castiel offered quietly, "Find it beneficial."

"Not me!"

"Dean! Stop it!" Sam broke in, trying to regain control of the situation. "You owe Mr. Castile an apology."

"No, that's not necessary. You're just being honest, giving me your opinion. I appreciate that." Castiel kept his words low and steady. It would be fascinating to learn more about this omega. But he would have to win his trust first. That much was obvious. "However I have found that not all omegas have your strength of character. Some need help. Someone to listen to their problems and to help them plot a course of action to address those concerns. Sometimes even Alphas need help." He ended with a shy smile.

"Maybe some. But not me. Or my brother." 

"Well, then, maybe we could just be friends. I can always appreciate more friends." He offered his hand to Dean.

Dean eyed him critically. Rowena had warned Castiel that Dean Winchester was a very dynamic individual, omega or not. Castiel wanted very badly to know more about this man's life. He was sure that Dean could offer unique insights into the omega experience. Castiel's smile was genuine as the omega accepted his hand. Apparently a truce had been declared. The first step to friendship taken.


	42. Chapter 42

"Kevin, I'd like you to think about this. It is likely to be the biggest decision you will make in your life. You may want to discuss it with your mother or friends you trust." Castiel advised the young omega. "There is precedent for what you propose. It is doable. But once you put the wheels in motion, it is unlikely you can change your mind."

"I have thought about it." Kevin looked left then right then down, nervously rubbing his hands over his knees. "I'm not like the other oms. They're all looking forward to their babies. They look at Ash and his baby," Kevin threw up his hands in small helpless gesture. "And they go all gooey. But not me. All I can think of is that this kid is going to be a lead weight dragging me down, keeping me from doing what I want to do, being who I want to be. And I have talked to my Mom. She agrees." He looked up at the counselor from beneath the fringe of his black hair. "We didn't plan this baby. We don't want this baby." He took in a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "But it's not just about me. This baby deserves better. He or she deserves to be loved and wanted." Kevin dropped his head again, ashamed to admit, "I can't do that. I know that when I look at this baby, I'll remember how he- or she- came into being. How I- how I was raped."

"I'm sorry that you are hurting, Kevin. I'm sorry that your first heat was a painful experience." Castiel laid a gentle hand on the teen's forearm. "And I think you are wrong. You do love this child you are carrying. You love him or her enough to know you can't be the parent you'd like him to have." Castiel watched as a slow tear rolled down the boy's cheek. "You are making difficult decisions to do what is best for the baby. That these choices also benefit you, is nothing of which to be ashamed."

The tears flowed freely now as Castiel knew they must for Kevin's healing to begin.

*******************************************************************

Kevin dried his eyes one last time as he slipped out of Mr. Castiel's office. As he expected, a group of omegas were gathered in the lounge. At its center, Ash sat, nursing his newborn. Kevin paused, what would his friends say when he gave his baby away? Would they understand that it was for the best, for both him and the baby? Or would they despise him for being a traitor to all that was omega? 

Kevin shook his head. He shouldn't worry about this right now. First, Mr Castiel had to contact MIT to see if any of the Alphas that had 'serviced' him during his heat wanted to claim the child. If more than one was interested, they could do paternity tests. Ideally the baby would be claimed by the biological father. A frown creased his brow. What if none of the Alphas wanted the baby? What if no one wanted his baby? 

Kevin forced himself to turn off that train of thought. He'd go crazy if he obsessed over this. He would just have to wait, see what Mr. Castiel heard from MIT. Kevin pasted a big grin on his face and went to join his friends. Playing the clown was easier than letting them see his pain.

*******************************************************************

Castiel leaned back in his office chair as the door closed at Kevin's back. The poor kid. He was too young, too alone to be in this position. In a year or two, with a strong Alpha to support him, he might be ready for omhood but now, Cas shook his head sadly. He would give the boy a week to consider the consequences, in the meantime he would draft a letter to his counterpart at MIT. If Kevin didn't change his mind, he would get the ball rolling. 

Cas booted up his computer. It would only take a few minutes to compose the letter. However it could wait. Castiel entered a command into his laptop. The screen darkened, then lit to reveal the common lounge outside his office door. It had taken more than a week to install the hidden cameras. A couple of keystrokes split the screen into a multiple location monitor. In the gym, Ruby led a class in yoga and meditation. Several of the classrooms also were in use. Donna led a class through planning a week of nutritious meals. Another midwife, whose name escaped Castiel, was demonstrating how to bathe and diaper a newborn. The waiting room in the medical wing had two Alpha/omegas pairs chatting amiably. Cas closed all the screens but the view of the lounge. As he had expected, there was Kevin, goofy grin in place on the fringe of the gathered omegas, who were encircled by their Alphas. Interesting, Dean Winchester, leaned over to speak to his Alpha. Sam rose, drew another chair into the circle, at Dean's other side and sat down. Dean spoke up, inviting Kevin to take Sam's original seat. A genuine smile transformed Kevin's features as he joined his friend. 

The Winchester pair were an interesting couple. They had a parity that was rare among Alpha/omega pairings. A symbiosis. Castiel thought back to his first encounter with Dean. He had had serious concerns about the omega's emotional stability. Considering the barbaric treatment he had undergone at the Canton omega clinic, Castiel had thought suicide, a very real possibility. It was both ironic and fortuitous that he had encountered Dean again. He would be an interesting subject for his ongoing investigation. A one-on-one interview would be a sensational addition to his expose.

On screen, the omegas were stirring, turning to regard a newcomer entering the lounge. Cas keyed in a new command, changing the camera angle. Whoa! No wonder the group was reacting. Gabriel waddled in, both hands pressed low to his gravid midsection. He was closely followed by his Alpha brothers, Michael and Lucifer.

Castiel keyed in another command, activating the long distance microphone. The voices were garbled at first, becoming understandable as the computer compensated as it had been programmed. 

"Shit, he's riding low." "Look at the poor bastard." "I'd say he's ready to whelp any minute." The variety of comments were curtailed by Dean's quiet voice. "Cool it, guys. Enough said."

The circle shifted, chairs scooted sideways, to allow Gabe in. Ever the gentleman, Sam offered his seat. Gabe, gave a small nod of appreciation, his hands shifted to support the small of his back as he sank awkwardly into the chair. Sam snagged an ottoman and positioned it. "Thanks, Sam!" Gabriel sighed, shifting, trying to find a comfortable position. "Dean, I don't suppose I could interest you in a trade. Two for one." He pointed at his impassive, ineffective brothers.

Dean gave a laugh and shook his head. "No thanks! I'll keep the Alpha I've got. How you feeling Gabe? Looks like you're locked and loaded."

"Yup! Ready to pop!" Gabriel confirmed, both hands moving over his midsection in big circles. "Dr. C. just checked me out. Contractions could start any time now. Pup is head down. Shit, he's riding on my pubic bone. Has been for days now. Only thing that gives me any relief is a good knotting. Slow and deep."

"TMI, man!" Dean protested with a laugh. Or was that a blush? Castiel wondered, studying Dean more closely. Kevin certainly looked mortified, head down, curled in on himself.

"What?" Gabe countered with a bawdy laugh. "Like it ain't going to happen to you all! I thought I was doing a public service. Thought you might appreciate a head's up. Rowena said, and Dr. C. agreed, that's exactly how to manage the pressure. Remember, deep fucks soften the cervix and open the channel for delivery. Rowena even assigned me a birthing room if I need relief while I'm here. And that's why Pops sent both big bros along today. You know, 'Have hard ons, will fuck.' What they lack in personality, they make up for in testosterone!"

Gabriel winched, moving his hands to his aching back. "Pops is getting impatient. Can't wait for me to pop this one out, so they can plant the next one. The old man has it all planned out. 'Go forth and multiply,' you know. He was talkative last night while he knotted me. He figures a minimum of eight pups. Two a piece for the bros and their beta brides. This one's promised to Mike and Naomi. The next will be Luc and Hannah's. By the time, number three is planted, Raphael and Anna should have tied the knot, matrimonially not just fuckwise, you understand. And eventually, even little Bartholomew will find his angel and I'll pop out a kid for them, too. Dad figures two each, maybe three. But he's generous, he wouldn't object four or even five, if they want more. I'll be omega to a dynasty." Gabriel moaned, struggling to rise from the chair. "Fucking bastard." He added breathlessly, body folding into a half squat. "Shit!" A wave of slick flowed, soaking Gabe's pants and the floor. "Shit, I think it's started." He groaned again, his hands clutching his distended abdomen. Behind him, Michael and Lucifer froze, faces sheet white, eyes dark with trepidation.

Dean stepped up to his friend, reaching to knead the taut back muscles. "Easy buddy... Breathe. Slow inhale. Good. Good. Now blow it out. Slow and steady. Sam, find Rowena." Sam took off at a quick pace. Dean called after him. "Or the midwife on duty!" He turned to Gabe's brothers. "Hey, you two asshats! Wake up! Help your brother!" 

The contraction had ended, leaving Gabriel weak kneed and a bit scared or, maybe embarrassed. Maybe both, if Dean read him right.

"Geez, I made a mess." Gabe whispered, not laughing now as he stared down at the puddle between his drenched shoes. His Alphas had finally stepped up to support him on either side. Neither had good color but at least they looked to be among the living now.

"Don't worry about it." Dean reassured. "Just slick. Doing its job. Remember from class- 'An abundant release of slick,'" Gabriel joined in reciting the lesson, mimicking Rowena's Scottish brogue, "'Signals the onset of labor. It both lubricates and cleanses the omega channel for delivery.' Careful, don't slip. This stuff is not only plentiful but slippery as all hell. Come on." Dean urged, taking Gabe's arm. "Let's get you to your room. You'll be more comfortable out of those wet pants. Kevin, see if you can find the janitor. The rest of you keep watch. Make sure no one slips in that puddle."

Slowly Gabriel waddled away from the lounge toward the birthing wing with Dean as his usher and his brothers as reluctant escorts.


	43. Chapter 43

"Well, Gabriel, when I said contractions could start any time now, I didn't know you would take me quite so literally." The Doctor shook his head from side to side as he watched the procession approaching the birthing room. "Mum and I were just about to sit down to a lovely cuppa."

"Sorry, Doc. Didn't mean to ruin your teatime. Oh! Oh shit!" Gabe clutched Dean's arm and shoulder as a second contraction seized his body.

"Breathe, man! Come on, breathe." Dean coached. "Deep breath. Hold it. That's right. Now let it out slow and even. Get your focus. That's good. Deep breath. Hold it. And let it out. Yeah, that's good. Real good."

The contraction eased. Gabe sagged against Dean in relief. Rowena and Crowley stepped up to ease him from Dean's support. "Ye are doing well, Gabriel!" Rowena trilled. "Very well indeed. Let's make ye comfortable. Come along with me." Gabe dutifully allowed himself to be led into the birthing room. 

Dean looked back at the two older brothers. "What are you lummoxes waiting for? Get in there and help him."

Michael looked at Lucifer. Lucifer raised an eyebrow as he stared at Michael. As if reading each other's thoughts, they extended their left hands, palm up. Their right hands closed into fists. One, two, three. Both men extended two fingers as they struck their upturned hand.

"Are you shitting me!" Dean exclaimed. "Your brother is about have a baby and you're playing games! Rock, Paper, Scissors! You, assholes! You can both be in there with him."

"Shut your mouth, omega. Loser has to be in there."

"You, useless pieces of shit!" Dean raged. "You're both as useless as a knife with no blade!"

"I said watch your mouth, om!" Michael advanced on Dean, fists clenched. Lucifer shadowed him, a snear twisting his face. 

Dean stood firm. He would not back down. Gabe needed someone to help him through the delivery. "Man up, do your duty! Your brother needs you."

Michael took two steps closer, fists ready, eyes flashing with outrage. Dean spared a moment to think of his baby, he had to protect the baby. But he had to help his friend, too.

"Touch him and I'll send you back to your father in a box!" Sam growled from the sidelines. For two seconds, Dean thought Sam would have to make good his threat. Then Michael pulled back, choking on his anger. Luc, shoved at him, wordlessly trying to egg him on. Michael pushed his brother aside, and stormed off. Luc gave a devilish smirk before he turned on his heals and followed.

"Shit, now they're both gone." Dean griped to Sam. "What's Gabe gonna do now?" 

From inside the birthing room came Gabriel's strained call, "Dean!"

"Go on." Sam urged, giving his brother a quick hug. "You'll be more help to him than those two knot heads put together."

***********************************************************************

The latest contraction waned. Exhausted by the prolonged ordeal, Gabe sagged against the birthing chair. His eyes were clenched closed. His face etched with pain and fatigue. More than anything he just wanted this to be done.

"I can't do this." He whispered raggedly. "I don't want to do this. I just want to go home." His eyes fluttered open, focusing on Dean with difficulty. "Let me go home."

Exhausted himself, back aching from the hours he'd spent at Gabe's side, Dean managed a dry chuckle or two. "Sorry, dude, it doesn't work that way." He ran a gentle hand over Gabe's hair and massaged the taut muscles of his neck. "Baby's got to come one way or another. You can't just call off the main event."

Dean was too focused on the laboring omega to notice the glances exchanged between Dr. Crowley and Rowena. Rowena's eyebrow arched toward the closed door. Crowley's nod of agreement was small but definite. Labour was not progressing. The patient's energy reserves were dangerously depleted. And although Gabriel was fully dialated and had been actively pushing to this point of exhaustion, he was no closer to delivering than he had been hours earlier. Concerned, the midwife and the doctor had quietly agreed he needed a rest period. "Time for a wee rest, Gabriel." Rowena advised. "No pushing now. Ride the crest of the contractions, pant through the pressure. Gather yer strength. Stay calm. Relax as best ye can, darling. Rest, love." She soothed.

"Gabriel, you have worked tremendously hard." Dr. Crowley praised in a soft, reassuring tone. "I'm going to insert an I.V. into your arm. You need fluids and electrolytes to bolster your system. And I'm giving you a little something to help you rest." Crowley suited his actions to his words, deftly inserting and securing the I.V. needle. Then injecting a sedative into the port. "This will help you."

"Thanks, Doc." Gable managed to respond, his eyes closed, drifting in exhaustion. Rowena slipped quickly and quietly out of the room. 

Dean eyed the proceedings cautiously. He had been attentive in birthing classes. He knew this was not routine. The jade eyes narrowed in concern for his friend. Doctor Crowley read his scowl and motioned him aside. Dean looked back at Gabe, who now seemed to be peaceful sleeping despite the monitor showing another contraction cresting. Concerned, curious, Dean moved to where the doctor waited by the door. 

"We are waiting for Gabriel's Alphas to authorize a surgerical delivery. I believe the baby's head is too large to pass through his pelvic girdle." The doctor explained quietly. Dean nodded in understanding. Their classes had included an overview of the most common complications of omega pregnancy and delivery.

"So what's the hold up? Those two lame asses flipping a coin to decide who signs the paperwork?"

Crowley's mouth tightened in anger. "Michael and Lucifer are no where about. I have asked Castiel to contact the Senior Alpha. Apparently that is not an easy assignment." Castiel had been dispatched some time ago, when Crowley first suspected that labour was not progressing properly. The social worker had been taxed with the assignment of advising Gabriel's Alphas of the situation, explaining the implications of cephapelvic disproportion and discussing the possible treatments. When Michael and Lucifer were no where to be found, he had moved on to contact Gabriel's father. Mr. Kingsley was proving to be a very busy man as well as a very important man, with a phalanx of flunkies to protect him from trivial matters. Castiel had lost count of the underlings that he'd talked to on his way to the man.

Rowena returned, backing into the birthing room, maneuvering a medcart with a portable ultrasound machine. Smiling confidently at a scowling Dean, she powered up the machine. If they had to preform a caesarean delivery without an Alpha's authorization, she wanted to document the circumstances to protect both the clinic and its doctor from accusations of malpractice.

"Gabriel, love, are ye awake?" The omega murmured incoherently in response. "No need to concern yerself. Ye know the drill. A mite bit of a chill." She spoke soothingly as she applied the gel and moved the transponder in a slow circular pattern. "Let's see what Baby is doing, eh? Do ye think this little angel has opted to stay snug as a wee bug in the proverbial rug?" 

Sedated, unaware of the drama playing out around him, Gabe smiled peacefully. The image on the screen coalesced. After a brief study of the image, Crowley and Rowena exchanged knowing glances. The diagnosis was confirmed. Rowena captured the image. She hit the button, printing a hard copy photo for back up. The baby was, indeed, head down, positioned against the fully dialated cervix. However the head was obviously too large to pass through Gabriel's narrow pelvic girdle. There was no possibility that this child could be born healthy without surgical intervention.

Eyes glued to the screen, Dr. Crowley bounced lightly on his toes to relieve his tension. He clasped his hands behind his back to remind himself not to act rashly. Dark eyes looked to the wall clock, scanned over the read outs of the various devices monitoring omega and child. The doctor did several quick calculations, reviewed possible scenarios in his mind. Soon he would have to act with or without the permission of Gabriel's Alphas. The life of this child and this omega were his responsibility. Crowley's mouth tightened in annoyance. Soon but not yet. For the moment they could wait.

As if reading his thoughts, Dean began, "What about Gabe and the baby..."

"Not to worry. Baby's vitals are strong. The I.V. is giving Gabriel a much needed rest and boost. We are prepped for surgery, as soon as we have the go ahead." Crowley spoke calmly, confidently. "We should be hearing from Castiel any time now."

Dean's scowl deepened. He hated that an omega's wellbeing was dependent on their Alpha's decision. Gabe wasn't a child or an idiot. He could weigh the circumstances and choose the course of action best for himself and his baby. But it would do none of them any good to argue the point. The center was bound by the omega laws as well as tradition. As long as the baby and Gabe's lives were not endangered, the medical staff had to wait for his Alpha's consent.

"Dean, Samuel is waiting just outside." Rowena informed him kindly. "Perhaps you should rest for a bit. You must be tired."

"I'm not leaving Gabe." Dean insisted, ready to do battle to remain with his friend. A quiet rap on the door curtailed his argument. The door opened, allowing Castiel to slip inside.

"I finally reached Gabriel's father. Senator Kingsley is enroute from the Capitol. He will be landing at the airport within 30 minutes. A police escort will rush him here. He is aware of the situation and gave verbal authorization for the C-section if it is an emergency. Otherwise he asks that you wait for his arrival. He would like to be present for his grandson's birth."

"That is excellent" Doctor Crowley said with satisfaction. "Gabriel will get a lovely bit of breather and be the better for it in surgery. Thank you, Jimmy for expediting his arrival." 

"I really had very little to do with it." Castiel explained, sheepishly. "Once I got through the red tape to reach the Senator, he was livid that his Alpha sons were not in attendance. And very apologetic that he hadn't foreseen the need to alert his staff to this eventuality. It seems he was trying to keep it out of the press to respect Gabriel's request for privacy."

The wail of approaching sirens foretold the Senator's eminent arrival.

"I'm guessing Gabe's privacy is about to be shot to hell." Dean surmised with a tired grin.

**********************************************************

 

Stiffs in suits invaded the Omega Center. The suits were well tailored and expensive. The stiffs were standard issue. W.A.S.P.y, self important with an air of entitlement, they flanked the Senator as he hustled into the building. The silver haired patriarch/politician was an impressive individual. He sat on several key committees in Washington, wielding considerable power. Rumors circulated frequently that he was considering a run for the presidency. Whether or not that was true, Senator Kingsley was generally good for a newsworthy quote or an occasional insider tip that kept him popular with the press.

Now as he dispatched his staff to keep the trailing reporters at bay, he lost the cool polish of the politico as the concern of a father came to the fore. Castiel stepped forward to greet the Senator, to guide him to his son. A quick exchange of civility then the Senator entered the birthing room where his son rested. 

As the door closed the Senator transformed into the Father. Bartholomew Kingsley rushed to his son's side. He took in the details: the medical paraphernalia, the attending personnel, the pregnant omega standing guard. None of that mattered as he studied the beloved face etched with fatigue. Gabriel reclined in a strange chairlike contraption. The thing didn't look comfortable but Gabe looked peaceful. Bart stepped up to his son's side. Automatically his hands came up to caress the pale cheek, to comb through the golden curls. 

"My boy, my poor boy." He murmured. His eyes flashed up, riveted on the Doctor. "He's okay? He and the baby? They'll be okay?" He asked fearfully.

"He'll be fine. The baby too. We can start the surgery immediately." Crowley answered confidently.

"Daddy?" A sleepy voiced slurred. 

"I'm here, son. I'm here." The man answered, taking his son's hand in both of his. "Everything's going to be alright."

"Sorry, Daddy. Shouldn't ...bother...you." Gabriel struggled to stay coherent.

"Nonsense! You've done nothing wrong. And don't you worry I'll have a talk with your brothers. They don't deserve you. Or this baby. I'll see to that. Now let's get this baby born. What do you say, son?"

"Wait!" Gabe forced his eyes open. "Dean! Daddy this is my friend, Dean..."

The senator offered his hand to the young omega waiting uncomfortably on the sidelines. "Dean, it is a pleasure to meet you. Gabriel has told me many good things about you."

Dean blushed, astonished to be in such company. "Thank you, Senator. It's an honor, Sir."

"Thank you for standing by my son. He values your friendship. And so do I." A low moan came from Gabe.

"I believe it is time to proceed." Dr. Crowley stepped forward to increase the sedative. "If you would like Senator, you may stay with your son in the operating room. Screens can be strategically located."

"Yes, thank you, Doctor. I'd like to be with him."

"Mother will help you scrub in while we transfer Gabriel."

 

*************************************************************

Dean stepped from the birthing room to find himself wrapped in Sam's strong arms. Exhaustion swamped him. He let Sam's strength support his weight. More than anything he just wanted to be off his feet. Horizontal, sounded oh, so good. 

"You look beat. Absolutely beat. Let's get you home and to bed." Sam stated, Alpha protectiveness in full force. 

"I should," Dean mumbled against Sam's chest, his head too heavy to lift, "I should stay til Gabe..." A huge yawn stole his words. "Til the baby is born. I..."

"You've done all you can. Gabe's Alpha is here. His father will take care of him. Now it's time for me to take care of you." Sam insisted. He bent, keeping one arm around Dean's slumped shoulders while the other swept his legs from under him. Dean gave a small cry of protest. But Sam's shoulder was such a comfortable pillow. And it felt, oh, so good to be off his aching feet. And his back... Another yawn took him under into peaceful slumber.

Sam shifted Dean's weight easily. His Dean was where he belonged. Sam brushed a gentle kiss over the slack lips. With long strides Sam carried his mate to the waiting Baby. He eased Dean into the back seat without disturbing his sleep. He tucked a blanket over the curled form before slipping into the driver's seat. He was taking Dean to Bobby's. To home.


	44. Chapter 44

Bacon. The aroma of bacon filled the room, making his mouth water even as he slept. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the scent, knowing he must be dreaming. His stomach rumbled, announcing his hunger at the same time the baby did a somersault to kneel on his bladder. He grunted at the pressure, the sudden urgent need for the bathroom. Dean forced his eyes open, realizing two things simultaneously: Sam wasn't beside him in their bed and the bacon smell hadn't been a figment of his dreams. Dean rolled awkwardly to his back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning!" Sam beamed at him, towering over the bed, tray in hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Dean grumbled, throwing back the covers. "Out of my way. Gotta pee!"

Sam stepped aside with an agility that Dean envied as he hefted himself out of bed. His back and legs protested as he waddled (Shit! When had he started to waddle!) to the bathroom. He did his business with a sigh of relief. His stomach again reminded him how hungry he was. Truth was he couldn't recall when he'd eaten last. Chowing down while Gabe was limited to ice chips seemed kind of unethical, just plain wrong or whatever. Running both hands over his big beautiful belly, Dean returned to find his Sammy still hovering in the bedroom. Still carrying that tray with some very interesting items. The big glass of milk he could take or leave. The same with the smaller glass of orange juice. Coffee, caffeine was still a luxury he was denying himself for the health of the baby. The covered plate looked more promising. He smelled bacon. Definitely bacon!

"That for me?"

"Who else would it be for?" Sam took a long look at his naked body. Eyebrows arched in lascivious interest. "Who else do I entertain in our bedroom?"

"Better just be me!" Dean ran a hand up Sam's back to ruffle his hair. 

Sam nodded toward the bed. "Get comfortable. After working so hard yesterday, today you get pampered. Bobby made you your favorite- Greek omelet with a double side of bacon. After breakfast, it will be your choice: a nap, a back massage, or a long soak in the tub. If you behave yourself, you might be able to talk me into all three."

Dean sank down on the edge of the bed. He looked up at his giant of an Alpha and smiled. "Sounds great. Especially the food. I'm starving!"

"Wait. Before you settle in," Sam shifted the tray to a one handed grip. He plucked a tee shirt off the bedside chair. "Put this on so you don't get chilled while you're eating."

"Yes, Nurse Nancy." Dean shrugged into the oversized maternity top, then scooted himself back against the headboard, pillows in place to cushion his back. Sam flipped the blankets up over his legs before he placed the tray on his lap. With the bulge of his belly, the position was awkward, hardly condusive to a relaxing meal. "Not sure this is going to work, Sammy."

Sam nodded, looking defeated, "I thought... It would be nice, kind of romantic, you know, but the logistics just don't work, do they?"

Dean took pity on his brother. "We've gotten ourselves out of tougher fixes. Let's try this. Give me the fork. Put the glasses by the alarm clock. Now hand me the plate. Oh, man, that looks good! Smells awesome!" Dean rolled his eyes heavenward as he placed the plate on his baby bump. "See, I come with a built-in plate shelf." Sam laughed with him as he cut into the omelet. A huge bite filled his mouth. Dean chewed appreciatively, picking up a slice of crisp bacon as he swallowed. 

"Don't rush. Chew that or you'll choke."

Dean spared a second to stick his tongue out at his worry wort brother but the food was too good for him to bother responding. Sam watched, enjoying Dean enjoying his breakfast.

Dean polished off the eggs and bacon in record time, wiping the plate with the last bite of English muffin to be sure he got every bit. Sam made sure he drank all of the milk and juice and took his vitamins, while he updated Dean on the latest news. 

"I called the Center this morning. Both Gabe and the baby are doing fine. He had a girl! Eight pounds, nine ounces. The first girl in the Kingsley family in two generations! Senator Kingsley is ecstatic! He's claimed the baby as his own. And declared that Gabe will raise her. Gabe has named her Angela!"

"Wonder what his asshat brothers had to say about that!"

"If I read the Senator right, I don't think they had a chance to say anything." Sam returned the empty dishes to the tray, perched on the chair. "Gabe asked that you come see him and the baby when you are up to it. Rowena wants you to take the day off to rest. She wants you off your feet as much as possible. Sleep as needed." Sam moved to join Dean against the headboard. He slipped an arm around Dean's shoulders. "She also ordered nutritious meals. Plus lots of fluids."

"The more fluids, the more I'll have to pee." Dean griped, turning into Sam's arms to nestle against his chest. He plucked at Sam's shirt. "Be more comfortable if you were were naked."

Sam allowed himself a small, lopsided grin. "I can do naked if that's what you want."

Dean had to wait for a small yawn to pass before he could reply. "Naked is always better." Another yawn rose up. "Shouldn't be tired. I just woke up. But I am."

"You exhausted your reserves yesterday. You need to recharge your batteries. That takes time. And sleep. Close your eyes. Relax."

"Skin to skin would be warmer." Dean insisted sleepily. "Better."

"Got to move to strip." Sam warned. Dean grunted his consent and made the effort to lift his head. Sam took the opportunity to pull Dean's shirt up and off. He held the bedclothes up as Dean maneuvered under the covers. When Dean was comfortably settled, Sam shucked his own clothing and climbed into their bed. He gathered Dean into his arms, settling the tousled head on his chest. 

Dean smiled dreamily. He shifted minutely to kiss the hard plane of flesh. His belly, their baby was snug against Sam's hip. They fit together perfectly. "Nice." He murmured as sleep reclaimed him.

 

The big hand slid over the dome of flesh, smoothly, soothingly. It paused just below the protruding navel. A little pressure, ever so gentle. A pause. One, two, three, four... Definite movement. A kick. Sam's grin grew. Again he swept his hand over the rounded abdomen, back and forth, a gentle caress. He paused, pressed ever so slightly. The response seemed quicker this time. A definite kick, sharp and repeated. The big hand moved again.

"Sammy, what the fuck," A gruff protest came from the head resting on his bicep. "Are you doing?" 

Sam stopped immediately. "Just playing with Squiggle." He answered distracted, entranced by the game. "Watch!"

"I don't have to watch!" Dean countered. "I can feel. That's my kidneys the kid is using as punching bags!"

"Oh, sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking." He apologized as he pulled his hand from where it was draped over Dean's side. Dean clamped his uppermost arm down to pin Sam's where it was.

"Where do you think you're going? No way are you rolling over to catch some more z's while Squiggle does his tap dance on my innards." Dean pressed Sam's big paw flat against his belly. "You poked the little beast, now you soothe him."

Beneath the slight weight of his hand, Sam felt the baby move again- one, two quick pulses that felt small and, dammit, cute to him. He just hadn't thought how it would feel for Dean. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to have another being moving within your body. Sam levered himself up onto an elbow. He tugged Dean's shoulder, easing him onto his back. Sam bent down to kiss those luscious lips as a sincere act of contrition.

"Sorry." Another kiss, a little nibble at the full lower lip. "Just wasn't thinking."

Dean smiled up at him mischievously. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He slid his arms around the broad shoulders. "Stop with the weak ass excuses. Show me how sorry you really are." Dean pulled Sam down for a deeper kiss.

 

"Sir, this really wasn't necessary." Dean said, indicating the catered dinner laid out on Bobby's dining room table. "I really didn't do anything."

The Senator nodded knowingly, "That's what Gabriel said you would say. But he and I, we both know you were there for him when even his brothers had deserted him. I should have known that those two weren't ready for the responsibility of parenthood. I suppose it's my fault for trying to force them to step up. But that's neither here nor there. You were there when Gabriel needed you. He said you were the rock that he could rely on. This is just a small way of saying 'Thank You'." The Senator smiled. "I only wish there was something more I could do to repay you."

Dean hesitated. He should keep quiet. The man really didn't owe him anything. But this was an opportunity that he would probably never have again. "There is something, sir. If you wouldn't mind. It's stupid really." To his dismay, Dean felt his face heat with a blush. He should have held his tongue. 

"What is it, Dean? I'd be happy to help in any way I can." The Senator invited.

"It's- well, it's about Sam. Valentine's Day is coming. I thought maybe you could help- Sam wants to be a lawyer. Go to law school. I've saved some money. But I really don't..."

"Say no more, son. I know several of the regents at SDU. A few phone calls, I'm confident admission can be arranged as well as a scholarship found."

"Oh, no sir!" Dean was aghast. "Sam would never forgive me if I interfered with him getting in or getting a scholarship."

"Sam doesn't need to know." Senator Kingsley reassured him. "It can be our secret."

"No sir!" Dean insisted. "I just," He shook his head in frustration. "I just wanted to know where I could get a briefcase like the ones your people carry. That would be a proper gift for an aspiring lawyer, wouldn't it?"

Kingsley smiled genuinely surprised at the omega's integrity, charmed by his personality. "Sam is a very lucky Alpha. I'll have my aide pick up a briefcase. It will be delivered tomorrow, suitably gift wrapped. Will that do?"

Dean grinned, very pleased with the outcome. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I've saved $175. Will that be enough?"

"More than sufficient unless you would accept it as a gift from me?"

"No, sir. If it's a gift from you then it wouldn't be a gift from me. Would it?"

"As you wish, Dean." The Senator conceded. If he remembered correctly Gabriel had said Dean's Alpha was very intelligent. It would be an easy matter to check on the young man's application. Dean would never know. That was one of the perks of his position. A word here, got things done. A nudge there, helped a friend. It really was a small matter.


	45. Chapter 45

"Ah, De! It's perfect!" Sam exclaimed as hefted his present from the wrappings. He stood before Dean, briefcase in hand, modeling. "Now all I need is the law degree!"

"You'll get it. I have every confidence in you." Dean replied, love shining in his eyes as Sam posed this way and that way with his present. Dean's grin grew as he watched his brother. His hands stroked over his belly. Without too much difficulty he could envision their future. Damn, it looked good. "Did you see it's got your initials engraved on that little brass piece by the handle."

Sam paused to study the leathergoods more closely, before swooping in to claim a kiss. "Like I said, it's perfect. Thank you so much for this." Sam set the case gently back on top the packaging. He kissed Dean again, more deeply. "But more importantly thank you for believing in me. With you in my corner, I can't fail." He rested his forehead against Dean's, watched as the green eyes grew misty. "Happy Valentine's Day, De!"

Dean blinked back the gathering moisture. Just the hormones making him soft and sentimental, he told himself. He had never imagined his life this way but he couldn't deny that he was happy. So was Sam. It felt good. He looked forward to their future together. Sam moved quickly, kissing the freckles on the tip of his nose.

"Stay there!" Sam commanded, excitement overflowing. "I'll get your present!"

Dean had to laugh as he leaned back into the bedside chair. "Not running off anywhere, dude." He watched as Sam dropped to his knees and scrabbled under their bed. He pulled out a huge long box wrapped in plain red paper. Dean had no guess what could be inside. Feeling excited, a bit overwhelmed, and more than a little nervous (What if he didn't like it? How could that ever be possible?), Dean tried for a smart ass remark. "If that's chocolates, I'll be too fat to get through the doorway!"

"It's not candy." Sam assured him as he laid the box on the bed. "Go on. Open it." Sam stood by, anticipation building.

Dean scooted forward in his chair. Curiosity got the better of him as he started to undo the wrappings. When the paper tore at the end he was trying to unseal, Dean gave in to the temptation and just ripped off the bright red paper. The cardboard box underneath was hinged. Dean broke the tape holding it closed and pushed up the lid. A black vinyl guitar case lay within. Stunned, mouth gaping in a silent 'O', Dean lifted the case out by the handle. Sam, helpfully, swept the outer box and paper aside. Dean set the case on his knees, one hand gripping the handle tightly, the other caressing the curved sides.

"Go ahead, open it." Sam urged, wondering if his brother's silence was a good sign or not. Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe he remembered it wrong or... He had only been 11 or 12 years old that spring that Dean had disappeared for months. Neither Dad nor Dean had ever explained where he'd been all that time. He had only been a kid but Sam remembered the look on his brother's face in the pawn shop. Dad had taken them there to redeem Dean's best knife. At first Dean had been peeved that John had pawned his blade but he had admitted he hadn't been using it where he was. And he'd seen the logic: the pawn had given John a stake for the local poker game where he had, of course, cleaned up. But what Sam remembered, or thought he did, was Dean staring at the acoustic guitars hanging on the wall. He'd seen longing in those eyes, hadn't he? He was sure he'd read Dean right.

Dean balanced the case carefully on his crowded lap. One by one he flipped open the catches. He pushed up the lid and stared, gaped at the beautiful instrument inside. Honey gold wood gleamed, contrasted with mother of pearl inlaid on the fretboard in the pattern of stars and diamonds and the band of ebony outlining the body. This was a thing of beauty, not just a functional piece. This was more than he deserved. This was too good for the likes of him...

"Do you like it?" Sam asked anxiously, unnerved by Dean's silence. "Donna said she could give you lessons. She plays. Or if you want I could show use how to use YouTube. There are lots of tutorial vids. Or I... Dean say something. Is it okay?"

Dean finally tore his gaze away from the gift. He looked up at Sam, eyes bright with unshed tears. "It's beautiful. It's perfect. I don't deserve this. I'll never be a rock star."

Sam huffed out a small laugh, relieved, happy that Dean was pleased. "You are my rock star. Mine and Squiggle's. Try it out."

Reverently, Dean lifted the guitar from its case, Sam moved that out of the way. Dean placed the guitar on his knees, curled his fingers around the fretboard. It was a bit awkward. He hadn't been pregnant when he learned this all those years ago. His right hand strummed lightly over the strings. The tone was sweet and resonant. Closing his eyes in concentration, Dean let memory rule. C F C. His fingers moved automatically, just a few simple chords but the song was there. G7 C G C. Still there in his mind. C F C G. He had thought it childish when the woman wanted to teach it to him- he had wanted to learn 'Smoke on the Water'- now he wondered if it was prophetic. The gentle tune of 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' was unmistakable.

"You're a natural!" Sam proclaimed.

"Thank you, Sammy!" Dean looked up at his brother, his face glowing with love. "Thank you for everything!"

 

"I'm not going." Sam insisted. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"You are going. There's no reason I can't be by myself for a few days. I just had my eighth month check up. You heard Dr. C. I'm weeks away from delivering. At the most, you'll be gone what? Three, maybe four days. I'm not an invalid, Sam. Or a little kid. I can take care of myself. And we owe Pastor Jim. He's been there for us a hundred times. More. He's never asked to be repaid. But he needs our help now. He's not as young as he used to be. Neither is Bobby. I would go myself..."

"You are NOT going off to clean out a nest of vamps." Sam's Alpha exerted itself.

"No. Of course not. I would never be that irresponsible. But Pastor Jim still needs help. People are dying, Sammy." Dean looked his brother in eye, chin up, mouth firm. "Are you worried that you've lost your touch? That it won't be the same without me to back you up?"

"No, of course not. Hunting is in our blood. You know that. It's just," Sam shook his shaggy head and threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't know, I've got a bad feeling about this. I shouldn't leave. Not now. Especially not now." Sam stepped nearer to place both hands against Dean's abdomen. "I don't want to be away from you."

Dean moved into his embrace, welcoming the strong arms that closed around him. "That's your Alpha protectiveness kicking in." Dean nuzzled Sam's Adam's apple. "Can't always be shadowing me, Sammy. When you're in college I'll have to be on my own. Me and the baby. You'll have to trust me to be strong enough to protect Squiggle and me."

"I trust you." Sam countered, resting his chin on top of Dean's head. "I do. It's the rest of the world I worry about." Dean's answering chuckle was lost against Sam's collarbone. 

 

"I'll be fine. I promise you." 

"You won't go to your shop or work out in the yard? If it snows, you won't shovel?" Dean dutifully promised that he would do neither. "And you won't drive if the roads are icy?"

"Of course not." Dean rolled his eyes, wondering what would be next. "I don't even plan on going out." Truth be told, it wasn't easy getting behind the wheel of his Baby anymore. "I plan on cooking up a storm. Laying in a supply of casseroles and meals for when I'm busy with the new arrival."

Sam scowled, rethinking his decision yet again. He opened his mouth to say he wasn't going, when Bobby spoke up. 

"Will you idjits cut it out! The bull shit is deep enough in here. Are you coming or not?" He hefted up his duffle bag and headed for the door.

Sam watched Bobby go out the door. He looked back at Dean, clearly torn. "Go, please. Just go. I'll be fine. Really, Sam, you know I will."

Sam choked back any further protest. He gave Dean a quick kiss, anymore and he'd never make it out the door, and joined Bobby in his truck.

 

Dean concentrated on portioning the ingredients evenly between the three foil pans. The layers built up to form the lasagna. It smelled good, looked good. He'd followed Donna's recipe to the letter. Plus her recommendation to divide the large batch into family size portions. Dean divided the last of the mozzarella cheese over the three dishes. Satisfied, feeling proud of his effort, Dean placed the lids on each pan. He labeled and dated each, thought about it and included basic baking instructions. Now even Sam or Bobby could finish it off for a warm, hearty and, hopefully delicious meal. Loading the three tin pans onto the tray, Dean carried his morning's work to the freezer.

Pleased, Dean rewarded himself with a PB and J sandwich and a big glass of milk.. As a kid he had sworn, that when he grew up, he would never eat peanut butter again. Then somewhere along the line, he had discovered the J. Jelly or jam made all the difference. Grape jelly was good, strawberry jam was better. Dean treated himself to a big bite. When Sam called to check on him, like he knew he would, he would be able to report that he had eaten well, on schedule and drank all his milk!

Dean eased back in the kitchen chair. Using his left foot, he snagged Bobby's chair and pulled it closer. With a sigh of relief he lifted his feet onto the padded seat. That felt good. He looked down at his slipper-clad feet. Crap, his ankles were swollen, so were his feet. Rowena had said that was normal in the later stages of pregnancy. Normal didn't mean he had to like it! Fifteen minutes, he decided. He would give himself fifteen minutes rest with his feet elevated. Then he would start a double batch of chili in the slow cooker. One batch for the freezer. One waiting in the frig to be heated when the guys got home. Chili was always better the next day.

If he kept busy the time would pass quickly. If he kept busy he wouldn't miss Sammy so badly. If... It was best not to dwell on that. After he had the chili simmering away, he decided, he would go up to the nursery. There were clothes to fold into the wardrobe's drawers. There were a hundred little things to organize. He could spend hours in the nursery, working, dreaming.

That should carry him through to dinner time. He'd help himself to a bowl of chili for his evening meal. Had to sample the goods, right? And after dinner, he would fire up the computer. Check out YouTube for a new guitar lesson. When Sam got back he would surprise him with a new song in his growing repertoire.

Dean glanced at the wall clock. Ten minutes. That was enough of a break, wasn't it? He couldn't sit there all afternoon mooning over Sammy. With a sigh he lowered his feet. It took a grunt of real effort to lever himself out of the chair. Dr. Crowley had said Squiggle was fully formed now. That during these final weeks the baby would gain weight dramatically. Pressing both hands to the small of his back, Dean wondered if he could carry any more. He already felt like he had a huge watermelon growing and moving inside his body. How much more could an om take? 

Lecturing himself to stop feeling sorry for himself, Dean waddled around the kitchen gathering what he needed for the chili. There was no one to see him so it didn't matter if he waddled. It helped his balance and eased some of the strain on his back if he moved with his feet turned out, his knees widely spaced. He wouldn't have a back massage at the end of the day to ease him into sleep. Shit! It was going to be weird going to bed without Sammy! Would he even be able to sleep? If he tired himself out enough, he would have to, right? 

"Suck it up, man!" He told himself. "It's only a couple of days. You can do this!" Crappola! Now he was talking to himself. And Sam had only been gone a few hours. Maybe some music would help. Dean turned on the radio, tuned it to the 80's rock station he favored and cranked up the volume. 'Eye of the Tiger' beat back the empty silence. Yeah, that would help! And there was no one to complain if he sang along. He could sing as loud as he wanted, Dean decided as he began to dice an onion. As loud as he wanted!

 

Tomorrow he would bake a cake, Dean thought as he finished browning the ground turkey. Turkey was a compromise. Bobby preferred ground beef or venison. Sam, of course, lobbied for tofu or beans. Dean had gone the turkey route in an effort to please both the men in his household. With the right seasoning, everyone seemed satisfied. 

A chocolate cake, Dean mused. He didn't think he could do it up fancy like Donna would. But he could bake a cake. Bobby's sweet tooth would appreciate the thought. What was that old saying- if I knew you were coming...

A gust of cold air caught Dean by surprise. Hunter instincts had him searching the vicinity for something made of iron. Only possibility in sight was the skillet he was using to fry the meat. Prepared to come into contact with searing hot metal, a hot pad would hamper his grip, Dean pulled back as he heard the back door slam behind him. He spun around as gracefully as his condition allowed. Just inside the door stood John Winchester, big as life, with Gordon Walker shadowing him.

"Dad!" Dean gasped, caught off guard by his sudden guests.

"You gone soft, boy?" John slurred, eyeing Dean's gravid figure. "Thought I trained you better. Letting us sneak up on you like this."

"Dad, I... It's good to see you, sir." Dean cringed inside, feeling like a damn kid again under his father's disapproving stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think tags are spoilers. I understand that tags warn of triggers that might affect some readers. Good things and bad things happen in every life. WARNING: Violence occurs in the next chapter.


	46. Chapter 46

"Looks like your brother did a good job knocking you up." John commented, listing, to lean against the nearest cabinet.

"Or some Alpha did." Gordon snarked. "How many knotted you, kid, to plant that pup?"

"Nice to see you again, Gordo. Don't let the door hit you on your way out."

"Is that anyway to talk to your Daddy's faithful partner! I've hauled his liquored up ass out of the fire a dozen times or more all the while you and sweet Sammy have been playing house." As a demonstration of just who was in control, Gordon grabbed John by the shoulders and steered him into a chair at the kitchen table. John plopped down heavily, nearly missing the seat. He scrambled awkwardly to right himself, gripping the table for support. Dean frowned at his father's condition. John had been a heavy drinker since the night of the fire. Dean had seen him drunk or hungover plenty of times. But he had never seen him this out of control. Concern flared to anger as he watched, Gordon pat his father's flushed cheek. 

"I take good care of your sorry ass, don't I, Johnny?" Gordon crooned as he pulled a bottle of rotgut whiskey from his pocket. John nodded pathetically, bleary eyes glued to the bottle. Gordon made a show of uncapping it before he set it on the table. John immediately grabbed it with both hands. Hands that shook uncontrollably as they raised the bottle for a big gulp as Gordon's boastfulness continued, "And when your dear daddy was worrying over how well Sammy was knotting you, it was my idea to lure Alpha Ape and Beta Bobbo away so we could pay you a proper visit."

Ignoring Gordon's taunts, Dean couldn't stand idle any more. He moved toward his father. "Dad, how about I make you something to eat? And some coffee? Or I could make up your room upstairs. You could sleep this off." He heard Gordon's snickering at his back.

"What a sweet little om, you've become! Taking good care of your Alphas." Gordon laughed, "Except you ain't so little! Fat as a cow, ain't ya?" He reached out, and ran possessive hands over Dean's backside. "Ain't never knotted an om as pupped out, as you. Maybe I'll knot you so hard, I'll pull that pup right out of you."

"Take your fucking hands off me!" Dean grated out through clenched teeth. He swatted away the big hands. Turned, ready to defend himself as he backed away.

"You ain't being nice, Dino. Do I have to explain it to you? Your daddy is your rightful Alpha. He don't mind sharing." Gordon stood tall, he raised his voice. "Ain't that right, John? We're partners. We share the dangers. And the rewards." John mumbled incoherently, already drowning in the bottle. Gordon took a step toward Dean, then paused to be philosophical. "Did iyou ever stop to think, Sweetcheeks, if you had let me have little Sammy, all those years ago, you might still be an Alpha now instead of a pupped out omega cow. All you had to do is let me pop Sammy's cherry," Gordon shook his head in mocking sorrow, "And you'd still have your balls!"

"You mean all I had to do was let you rape my kid brother!" Dean kept moving backward, plotting his defense, an escape. Dean had no delusions. Gordon outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Pounds of pure muscle, not baby weight. He couldn't count on John, that was obvious. He'd left the chef's knife he had used to dice the onion beside the sink. There was the cast iron frying pan, still full of hot meat and grease on the stove. There were more kitchen knives in the drawer to the left of the stove. Beyond that the doorway to the dining room. If he could get clear, he might be able to grab one of Bobby's handy shotguns. Or maybe he could circle around for the back door behind Gordon, snatch Baby's keys from the peg beside the door and make a run for it. He wasn't as fast on his feet as he once had been but a good healthy dose of fear and adrenaline might be give him an advantage. 

Dean came up short against the wall of cabinets. The sink was at his back. He didn't dare take his eyes off Gordon. The knife, he pictured it in his mind. The knife was to the right of the sink. Dean moved over a step, or two, feeling with his right hand behind his back for the handle. Yes, there it was. He firmed his grip, satisfaction and relief surging through his body. Dean swung the knife around, ready to defend himself and the baby.

Gordon's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger. "You're not playing nice, Dino. You know you want it. You must be missing Sammy's knot. Bend over and I'll show you what a real Alpha can do." Gordon made a grab for Dean. Dean slashed with the knife. The blade caught Gordon high on the left bicep, tearing through the flannel shirt, drawing blood from the cut.

Gordon howled in rage and pain. His right hand clenched into a fist. He swung a sharp upper cut into Dean's chin. The force knocked the omega off his feet, the back of his head colliding with the farmhouse sink on the way down. Dean landed on his knees, pinned against the cabinets. Gordon followed up with backhanded blows, right, left and right. Battling to retain consciousnes, Dean tried to get away, crawl away, any escape to protect the baby. Gordon grabbed him by the hair and dragged him several feet. Gordon flung his victim to the floor. Dean still clutched the knife, his only defense, in his hand. Gordon seized his wrist, stretched out his arm and stomped hard on the forearm. The resulting sharp crack of breaking bones and cry of agony, were very satisfying to the sadistic hunter. With smug satisfaction, he kicked the fallen knife aside.

"I owed you that, Dino baby. I've owed you that for a long." Gordon sneered as he circled the injured omega, savorying his sense of power, of righteous payback. "Remember how you broke my wrist just for feeling up little Sammy." Gordon shifted his weight, hauled back and landed a kick to Dean's ribs. The resulting ooof of pain was music to his ears. He landed another kick lower on the huddled body. Another. He'd teach this om bitch to fight back! An omega should welcome an Alpha's attentions! A real omega should thank him for a good knotting. Another kick followed. Then another. And another.

Dean curled his good arm over his abdomen, trying, hoping to protect the baby as best he could. He tried to crawl away. Dignity, resistance were unimportant. All that mattered was the baby. He had to protect his baby. 

Gordon grabbed at Dean's clothes, tearing closures, pulling at his pants. Gordon flung him over, facedown. The broken arm flapped uselessly against the floor, the jagged edges of bone breaking through the skin . Gordon rucked Dean's hips up. He pulled the pants low down his hips, exposing the pale globes of flesh.

Dean struggled to escape the cramped, humiliating position. There came a time, he knew, when fighting was pointless, foolish. The important thing was survival for both the baby and himself. He would endure, survive. He bit his lower lip, holding in a sob of pure pain. Blood filled his mouth, flowed from his nose. His arm was agony. Battered ribs tore at his lungs with each breath. He forced himself to be still as hard hands seized his hips. Wetness ran down his thighs. It wasn't the familiar slickness he associated with arousal. Dean feared it was blood, feared what that meant for the baby.

The hands shifted. From behind Dean heard the rustle of clothing, the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered. Dean gagged on the blood in his mouth. He spit out blood and mucus, fought back the urge to vomit. Survive, he told himself. Live, to give this son of bitching bastard what he deserved another day. Survive for the sake of Sammy and their baby. Survive. Survive. Dean chanted in his head. Survive! 

The hard hands fell away. Noise, a commotion sounded behind his broken body. Dean didn't know or consider what it meant beyond the fact he was free of Gordon's touch. Driven by instinct he struggled to flee. His battered body inched away as the noise grew. It hurt so bad to move, to even try. But he had to get away. Had to, if he could. The ruckus grew. Angry words, grunts, the sound of flesh striking flesh. Dean pulled himself across the floor. Something big and heavy struck his side, over balancing his shaky stance. Dean feel heavily on his side, his broken arm pinned beneath his body. White hot agony flared. The world where he existed, Bobby's kitchen faded into blackness. 

 

A hundred points of pain pulled him back to awareness. Dean moaned. He hurt. Everywhere. It was especially bad in his arm and in his belly. The pain at his core peaked then waned. Dean took a cautious breath. He forced his eyes to open as far as the swelling allowed. Opposite him on the blood spattered floor lay Gordon Walker staring at him with death dulled eyes. Memory kicked in. Instinct ruled. With an adrenaline surge, Dean levered himself up. Agony flared. He collapsed again, onto his back unable to contain the cry that escaped his lips. The blackness threatened again.

"Dean?" A shaky, alcohol blurred voice called from what seemed a great distance. "Son, are you alive? I thought- maybe- I thought he'd killed you."

Dean rolled his head from side to side searching for that voice. He forced himself to focus, to stay aware. There, beyond the body of his attacker, slumped against the base cabinet, sat John Winchester in a drunken sprawl. "Dad?" Dean mouthed, his voice hardly more than a whimper. He had to do better than that. He coughed reflexively. Pain exploded in his chest. Dean fought it, let it roll over his abused body then tried again. "Dad, I'm hurt. Need help."

Sounds from across the room, awkward, uncoordinated, drawing closer. Giving Gordon's body a wide berth, John managed to get to his son's side. He stared at the corpse. "I killed him. Didn't mean to but I had to stop him. Wasn't right. He shouldn't have hurt you. Shouldn't have touched you. I just-" John's knees buckled, pitching him nearly on top of Dean. "I was worried for you, son." He confessed in a drunken slur. "Wanted to know you were okay. That you'd forgiven me for what I let'em do to you."

"Dad. It's okay." Dean tried to break into the booze fueled soliloquy. "I'm hurt. I need help."

"Gordon should have known not to touch you. You were always meant to be Sammy's. Just like my Mary was meant for me." John's head hung low in grief, in guilt. "When I saw you after- after the doctor cut you- I knew I had to get out. You looked so much like your mother. I had to go. It hurt to look at you. To see her, in you."

Renewed pain seized Dean. It gripped his middle, squeezing hard. Fighting back panic, Dean recognized the pain for what it was. A contraction.

Dean clutched at his father, closing his good hand on the sleeve of the leather jacket. "Dad, I need..." He broke off to pant against the pain. "I need help... My phone... Find my phone... Call the omega center... I need Doc Crowley..." A sob escaped. "Or Rowena... I'm scared, Dad! I'm afraid for the baby. Please don't let me lose Sam's baby!"

As always, John Winchester responded to the call of need, the cry for help. With surprisingly steady hands, he patted down Dean's pockets. Gently, he fished out the phone and made the call.

"My son needs help. Dean Winchester. No, Sam isn't here. I'm his father. Yeah, the baby! There's blood. Some." Dean struggled to follow the one-sided conversation with his body suffering and his mind swimming. "No, I don't know. He's hurt. It's bad. He's been beaten. Not by me! No. No! He's safe now. Because I killed the goddamn bastard. Go ahead call the fucking police! Just help my boy!"

Very soon, from the distance, the wail of sirens could be heard. The shrill sounds grew, converged, shrieked as pulsing lights colored the interior of the kitchen. John struggled to his feet, lurched towards the back door. He flung it open, stepped out to shout, "He's here! In here."

A police officer, his partner at his back. guns drawn were the first through the door. Steel eyes swept the room, assessing the situation, evaluating the dangers. His shout of "Clear!" brought a team of paramedics scrambling through the door. The first cop moved off, into the dining room as the first EMT dropped down beside Dean and his partner bent over Gordon's body.

"He's dead." John moved to hover over Dean. "I know dead. I killed him. Help my boy." The second EMT shook his head, confirming John's assessment. Silently he shifted to help the living.

Hands were everywhere. Brisk efficient touches meant to help that also hurt. Dean struggled to follow the swirl of action. Lights pinpricked his eyes. Someone lifted his injured arm, maybe only an inch or two but, Shit!, it hurt. Dean heard his Dad demand they be careful with him. Pressure grew on his arm. Dean tensed, anticipating pain but to his amazement, it eased. A stab of pain, surprisingly sharp, at the inside of his left elbow. The two men working on him were busy doing medical things, calling off numbers that must be important. "The baby?" Dean tried to ask as gentle hands moved over his abdomen. A cold spot of pressure here, there, then over there. 

"Fetal heartbeat is elevated but steady. No apparent amniotic fluid leak. Some evidence of anal hemmoraging. No obvious signs of traumatic penetration." The hands spread over both sides of his distended belly as Dean felt another contraction building.

"Contraction, time mark. Is this the first one?" The words were spoken to the world beyond him. Dean rolled his head from side to side, trying to let them know that there had been more. 

"How the hell should I know." John barked, concern and anger darkening his voice. "He's right there! Ask him! Damnit!"

From the back door came more voices. "I'm a doctor, Officer." As the contraction ebbed, Dean heard a wonderfully familiar accent explain. "His doctor. I was called to attend my patient. Yes, of course. My I.D. And this is my colleague."

"Rowena McCloud. Certified Midwife. May we attend our patient, please."

Dean sighed with relief as he heard the police officer authorize their entry. They knelt on either side of him, the paramedics yielding their positions. 

"Status." The doctor requested of the medical workers.

"Fetal heartbeat, 200. Steady. Omega BP 90/70. Respiration shallow, guarded. Anterior hemorrhaging. No amniotic fluid release. No channel lube discharge. Compound fracture of the right radius and ulna has been immobilized by vacuum splint. Possible concussion. Multiple contusions. Bilateral bruised, possibly fractured ribs. I.V. Ringers lactate. Contraction of 97 seconds duration. 

"Very good. Thank you." Dr. Crowley nodded to the paramedics. "Is our patient ready for transport?"

"Yes, sir. At your discretion."

"Dean, my boy," the doctor addressed his patient directly. "These good men will transport you to Hospital."

"No!" Dean moaned. "Om Center. Please!"

"My boy, this arm must be set. That is not my speciality. I'll be with you to supervise and for sedation."

"The baby! I'm having contractions." 

"Dean, Love," Rowena soothed squeezing his good hand. "You are in good hands. I'm going to attach a fetal monitor." Her slim hands slipped beneath his body, drew the belt over the distended abdomen. "There. We can monitor the baby's heartbeat now and your contractions. Trust us. We want what is best for you and your little one. Relax. Listen to Doctor."

Dean nodded reluctantly, afraid that he had no other choice. "Sam! Call Sam. Tell him I need him!"

"Of course, Dean. Castiel will see to it." Crowley assured him, as the paramedics lifted the injured omega onto a stretcher. "The baby is not presently in distress. We will continue to monitor your's and the baby's condition. The contractions may abate. May even cease. When we get to Hospital we will do an ultrasound to further evaluate your condition. Are we set to transport?

"Dad! Can Dad come with me?" Dean asked.

John looked to the police officer at his side who shook his head emphatically. "Dean, I'll be with you as soon as I can. The officer has a few questions for me."

"Dad!" Dean called out, trying to rise despite his pain to find his father.

"Dean," Castiel stepped forward to reassure the battered omega. "I'll do everything I can to get Sam and your father to the hospital as soon as possible. Now just let them take care of you. Please."

Having no other option, Dean lay still as the stretcher carried him to the ambulance.


	47. Chapter 47

"Lie still." Sam spoke firmly. Still lost in the grip of the anesthesia, Dean's omega instincts obeyed. He stopped struggling. His battered body went limp, relaxed upon the sterile bedding. Sam relaxed a bit, relieved that Dean would get more rest. He blamed himself for Dean's condition. He had been absent when Dean had needed him most. Now he would guard his sleep as best he could, as long as he could. Dr. Crowley had said that the doctors had done all they could. Now sleep was the best medicine for Dean.

For the five hundredth time since his arrival, Sam studied the pale face. Livid bruises covered both cheeks, the square chin, trailed down the neck to disappear beneath the bindings around his ribs. Three broken ribs, another four cracked. Compound fractures of the right radius and ulna. The surgery to set Dean's arm had taken almost three hours. Dean had been in recovery by the time Sam and Bobby had made it back to Sioux Falls and the hospital. The orthopedic surgeon had been confident that the breaks would heal cleanly and quickly, citing Dean's age and overall health and most importantly, his omega vigor. 

It was true. Omegas healed quickly. Already the swelling around Dean's eyes was reduced. His split lip was nearly healed. The bruises should begin to fade by morning. Dr. Crowley had said if Dean got a peaceful night's sleep, he would likely be able to take him home within 24 to 48 hours. Home would be where Dean would rest easiest, recover best. Hospitals, in general, creeped him out. He had a right to be paranoid when it came to doctors. And nurses weren't much higher on Dean's list of preferred people. Home would be best.

Sam ran a gentle finger over Dean's cheek, along his bruised jawline. A small smile formed on the tempting lips. Sam bent down. He brushed the lightest of kisses over that curve. 

"Sleep." He whispered, reinforcing the message Dean's own body was sending him. Sam settled back in the armchair drawn up beside the hospital bed. He clasped Dean's good hand between both his own. Sam would keep watch. There was no place he would rather be than here at his mate's side.

 

The hand beneath his own twitched, flexed. Sam jerked to awareness. He was ashamed to realize he had been dozing. The muted vibration of his cell phone repeated. Maintaining his grip on Dean's hand, Sam pulled the device from his jacket pocket and answered it.

"Yeah, Bobby. No, he's still asleep." Sam ran a quick eye over the subject of their discussion. "He looks lots better. Got a little color back. No! Not that kind of color! The bruises are fading. Yeah. Really. Okay. That would be great. See you soon. Yeah, thanks." 

Sam terminated the call, stowed the phone again before scrubbing both hands across his stubbled chin. He could use a shave. And a shower. He and Bobby had driven more than five hours to arrive at a bewildered Pastor Jim's. It hadn't taken long to realize that the call for help had been a hoax. Why they had been set up, wasn't apparent. For Sam, the 'why' didn't matter, everything in him screamed, 'Dean! Get home to Dean!' They had been half way back to Sioux Falls when Castiel's call had rung through. Sam had nearly blown the engine on Bobby's truck racing the rest of the way.

Standing, Sam eased Dean's hand from his grip. He stretched, fingertips brushing the ceiling, joints popping. He let his head fall back, arching his back to relieve the strain of more than twelve hours seated in that chair. A small sound from the bed, snapped Sam back to attention.

"Dean!" Sam bent down, speaking urgently. "Wake up, Dean."

Heavy eyes blinked sleepily, focused with difficulty on Sam's worried face. "Sam... I... Where?" In a matter of seconds memory returned chasing the confusion from the green eyes. "The baby! Gordon! Dad!"

"Ssh. Take it easy. Try not to move. Dr. C. gave you something for the pain but that should be wearing off by now. Everything is alright. Just relax. Try to stay still."

"The baby!" Dean insisted, his uninjured hand moved to explore his midsection. Dean frowned. His belly was soft, tender. Something was wrong, very wrong. Panic edged Dean's words. "I can't feel the baby!" 

Sam captured his hand, grasped his black and blue chin with gentle fingers. "Dean, listen to me. It's alright. The baby is fine. I promise you."

"He is?" Dean gasped.

"Not he. She. We have a daughter. She was born while you were in surgery. Dr. C. hoped the anesthesia would forestall the contractions. Instead when you weren't fighting them, the contractions accelerated. Squiggle insisted on being born." Sam shook his head sadly. "We both missed her entry into this world."

Dean struggled to look around the room. "Where is she? Isn't she here?"

"Lie still." Sam ordered again. "She'll be here soon. She spent the night in the Neonatal ICU. Just a precaution. Bobby has been with her. Rowena too. They're bringing her here now. The docs say she is fine. Bobby says she's beautiful. Small but perfect. He says she has your eyes and my hair. Rowena says she has the sweetest little rosebud mouth."

"You haven't seen her?"

Sam shook his shaggy head. "I wanted to meet her with you. And I didn't want to leave you."

A knock sounded at the door. The door opened a crack, enough for Rowena to slip into the room. The midwife looked a little worse for the wear but a huge smile brightened her visage. "How are you feeling, Dean? Are you ready to meet your little one?"

She read the eager need in his eyes before he could even answer. "Let's get you ready first. Let me know if this hurts." She took up the control for the bed and slowly elevated the head until Dean was sitting nearly upright. She lifted his cast-immobilized arm to cover the hard fibercast with a folded warming blanket. The bed sheet was pulled up high enough to cover his bound ribs. More warming blankets were rolled to support him on either side. "Comfortable? Ready?"

"Been ready forever." Dean griped, impatience mounting. 

"Very well!" Rowena trilled with a huge smile. She went to the door, opened it and ceremoniously bowed Bobby in. The gruff hunter practically glowed as he pushed the wheeled plastic sided crib cart into Dean's room. A small card labeled 'Baby Girl Winchester' was adhered to the front. A small bundle rested within. Dean strained, pushing against the bed with his good arm for a better view. "Aye, none of that. Lay back. Dinnae stress yerself. I'll bring the wee lass to ye."

Rowena lifted the swaddled bundle with practiced grace. Grinning, she laid the baby in the crook of Dean's cast bound arm. The tiny head was covered by a pale pink knit cap. With the fingers of his good hand, Dean skimmed over the soft knit. Ever so gently he tugged the cap off. Soft curls sprang out. Bobby was right, the color matched Sam's. Dean spared a quick glance at his mate. He saw on that beloved face a look of awe that matched his own. Feeling more confident, more curious, Dean worked the snugly wrapped blanket free. The baby seemed impossibly small but perfectly formed. Little arms and legs that seemed hardly bigger than his fingers were curled against the diapered torso. Dean trailed one finger over the soft skin of the forehead, traced one eyebrow, then the other. He combed through the tousled curls, paused to feel the pulse point beneath the skull's soft spot. The tip of his index moved on to trail, between the eyes, over the tiny nose. Lashes fluttered, the eyes opened to stare up at him in serious contemplation. The smile that spread across Dean's features hurt his healing lip, his tender cheeks. He didn't give a damn that there was pain.

"Your little one weighed in at five pounds, ten ounces." Rowena informed the parents. "She's seventeen inches long. Official time of birth was 8:12 p.m. She may be a bit on the wee side but she is a bonny lass. Don't you agree?"

Dean nodded absently, enthralled by little being in his arms. Worried that she might take a chill, he wrapped the blanket around her again as best he could. She stirred slightly, stretching her arms up, free of the swaddling. Dean's eyes were drawn to the pursed lips, damn, they really did look like a rosebud. The tiny mouth pulsed, sucking reflexively. Dean felt his breath catch as his own body responded. His chest, his nipples ached in automatic response. The lips parted. A soft mew of complaint sounded. Dean felt a new sensation as his milk let down. He looked to Rowena for guidance.

"Aye, the lass is hungry. Would ye like to try nursing, Dean? If ye dinnae feel up to it, the babe can be bottle fed. I brought a bottle of formula just in case."

"I want to try." Dean answered eagerly.

Bobby shifted uncomfortably. He edged toward the door. "I'll just step outside. Give you some privacy."

Rowena's sharp frown pinned him in place. "Nae. None of that. Ye cannae entertain false modesty under these circumstances. Given Dean's current state he may need your help to tend to the babe. Ye cannae blush and hide when he needs a hand. Man up, Mr. Singer, lactation is a natural function and naething of which to be ashamed." Rowena adjusted the sheet to bare Dean's upper chest. The elastic bandages wrapping his chest left his nipples uncovered. A small bead of liquid had already formed on each of the slightly swollen paps. "Excellent." Rowena praised, encouraging Dean to raise the small body with his good hand, to angle her properly. "Yes, just like that. She has a strong suckling instinct. See." Rowena teased open the baby's right hand with her index finger. Dean was surprised to see a blister on the tiny thumb. "She's been sucking her thumb in utero. She does quite well pacifying herself."

The little mouth opened and latched on without difficulty. The baby stared up at Dean as her mouth worked, cheeks hollowing slightly to draw in sustenance. Dean's heart melted completely. In that moment he knew his life could not be any better. He looked up to include Sam in his joy. Sam hovered at his bedside, eyes suspiciously damp, an impossibly huge grin straining his features. Dean caught his eye and nodded toward the empty space at his side. Sam took his suggestion. He sat upon the edge of the bed. Carefully he eased nearer. He worked one arm around Dean's shoulders. Positioned the other to support Dean's as he cradled the baby to his chest. Sam dropped a kiss on top of Dean's head. They cuddled closer. The family bond forming, firming. 

"Have ye thought of a name for the lass?" Rowena prompted after a bit. "Baby Girl Winchester is fine for the short term but hardly suitable for such a comely lass."

Dean looked to Sam. Sam looked at Dean before admitting with an embarrassed shrug, "We never discussed girls' names. We had decided on Robert. I suppose we could go with Roberta." He finished lamely.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry Bobby, but she doesn't look like a Roberta to me. And she deserves her own name. Not a second choice or a make-do compromise."

"No, you are 100% right." Bobby agreed readily. "Our little princess gets nothing second hand or second best."

Sam skimmed a knuckle over the soft pink cheek. "We could name her after Mom." He suggested, mesmerized by this small being.

"Maybe for her middle name," Dean said thoughtfully, "I don't want Dad feeling bad everytime he sees her." Realization hit. Dean tore his eyes from the baby to ask Sam. "Has Dad left? Is that why he's not here?"

Sam pulled Dean more securely into his embrace. "He's in jail. Being held on a manslaughter charge. He's scheduled to be arraigned this afternoon. Shh. Don't go balastic on me. Think of the baby. Castiel has hired an attorney for him. He's working on getting him into a alcoholism treatment program. The lawyer thinks that there's a good chance he'll get off with probation if he agrees to detox."

"I should go to the hearing. I have to tell them what Gordon did. How he beat me. How he tried to kill our baby. Dad saved me. Both of us. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if Dad hadn't been there."

Sam was about to protest but Rowena beat him to it. "Ye will do nae such thing. Your job is to take care of this wee lass. And yerself. Castiel has all the information he needs and will see to yer Da." She stepped closer to Dean's bed. "Tis time to change sides. Use yer finger to break the suction. Aye, there at the corner of her mouth. Ease her upright a bit. Can ye manage that? Aye, good. That's grand. Try to coax a burp out, if ye can. Pat her back, ever so gentle. Don't worry, she will nae break. Aye, that's the way."

A little bubble of sound brought smiles to all their faces. Rowena helped Dean turn the baby, adjusting her position to suckle at the other nipple. The gentle tug at his chest was soothing, almost hypnotic. Dean resisted the pull long enough to address his brother. "Sam, Dad shouldn't have to face the judge alone. Promise me you'll go to the hearing. That you'll be there so he knows we care, that he can count on us."

"If it means that much to you, I'll go." Sam conceded. He wasn't as willing as Dean to forgive their father for his shortcomings. But if it made Dean happy, it was the least he could do. And John had come through when it mattered most.

"What do you think of Rose?" Dean began, lost again in the lure of parenthood.

"Rose, what?" Sam asked, confused, having missed the segue way.

Dean gave an elaborate sigh, "Rose Mary Winchester. For her name. What do you think?"

"Rosemary, the herb, is for remembrance." Bobby contributed, giving Sam a moment to think. "It's a small, semi-hardy shrub. Quite pretty in its own way. Smells good too. Which I hate to say our little princess may not. She's due a diaper change."

"Are you volunteering?" Dean challenged with a smile.

"Wouldn't be my first rodeo." Bobby boasted. "And I hazard the guess that it won't be my last." Dean looked suitably impressed.

"That's all well and good but I think it's Samuel's turn to show off his parenting skills." Rowena directed, knowing how important it was to involve an Alpha in the care of a child. Initial contact established a precedent, fostered the parental bond that would determine the child's wellbeing.

"Me!" Poor Sam looked terrified. "I couldn't. I'll break her."

"Ye'll do nae such thing!" Rowena insisted. "There are supplies in the drawer beneath her crib. Ye'll need a changing pad, a fresh nappie and cleansing wipes."

Sam cast a desperate look at Dean, hoping to be spared. Instead he got an encouraging nod. "It's okay. You can do it. Just like in class."

Sam gulped, feeling trapped. He'd rather fight a wendingo. He stood cautiously, being careful not to jostle Dean and the baby as he moved. He rubbed suddenly sweaty palms on the front of his shirt. Rowena stood there, implacable, patiently waiting. Bobby watched, a shit eating grin on his face, daring Sam to back down. And Dean, held their precious baby girl to his chest while he looked at Sam with all the love and trust in the world shining from those never-to-be disappointed eyes. Sam pulled in a long steadying breath. He opened the drawer, found the supplies he would need. He debated for a second, should he try this in the crib or on the bed beside Dean. One glance at Dean's intent expression, convinced him to work as close to his mate as possible. Besides if he kept the baby on the bed there was less chance of dropping her. Sam frowned, silently wishing that he hadn't thought of that possibility.

He spread the changing pad out beside Dean's hip. In class they had practiced on dolls, not flesh and blood, living, breathing, fragile babies! Sam felt a surge of panic. His hands were sweaty again. He rubbed them against his jeans. One eyebrow cocked upward, he looked to Rowena, hoping for a last minute reprieve. She only smiled and nodded, silently encouraging him to continue.

Sam took a deep breath and prayed for steady hands. Dean smiled trustingly as he reached for the baby. Her belly must be full, he decided, since she had voluntarily relinquished the nipple. Sam inserted one hand beneath the blanketed body, the fingers of his other hand cradled the head. Carefully he lifted her from Dean's arms. She felt light as a feather. Her arms flailed about. Her little mouth formed into a pout. Was he hurting her?

"She needs to be burped." Rowena reminded him. "Bring her up to yer chest, rest her against yer shoulder. That's right, lad. Now gentle pats..."

"I'll break her!"

"Ye'll do nae such thing. Yer a gentle man, Sam, you can do this!" Rowena encouraged. "Aye, that's the way of it. Yer doing fine, man!" A surprisingly loud bubble of gas escaped the tiny mouth. Sam relaxed some, knowing he had done something right. But the true test was still to come. Cautiously he lowered the baby to the changing pad. He unwrapped the blanket and drew it out from under the little body. Things were about to get messy.

The little legs were drawn up, frog-like against the torso. They framed the round tummy were the remains of the umbilical cord were clamped. Sam used one hand to move a leg aside so he could unseal one side of the diaper. So far, so good. Using the same technique he unfastened the second side. Now came the moment of truth. Sam steeled himself and drew the diaper down, exposing the inner lining. A dark tarry substance soiled the white surface, the pink buttocks. He had expected a smelly mess, not this! 

"Is that normal?" Sam hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Maybe there was something wrong with their baby.

"Perfectly normal." Rowena assured with a small laugh. "The first poo is called meconium. It passes in the first day or two. Then ye get the smelly messes that yer expecting. Sam, it will take some work to clean this off. Ye best get to it."

Sam set to work with the wipes, working methodically to clean the delicate skin. He made sure that he got into all creases and folds of flesh. He became more confident as he worked. The baby, his baby-- his daughter stared up at him, her little limbs moving in a random manner. He lifted her clean bottom, placed the fresh diaper in place, drew in up between the splayed legs.

"Remember do nae cover the umbilical stub. It will heal best If kept dry and exposed to the air."

Sam heeded her advice as he snugged the diaper over the round little belly. Sam looked from Dean to Rowena to Bobby for approval. Each gave him their signal for a job well done. Sam wrapped the dirty diaper and wipes in the plastic disaposal bag Rowena handed him. He cleansed his hands with one more wipe, then spread the receiving blanket. With more confidence, he lifted the baby, placed her at the center. He folded blanket carefully, swaddling the little body securely. Sam lifted the small bundle with the intention of returning the baby to Dean's arms but fatigue was evident on Dean's face. And Sam was quick to realize that the baby didn't feel so fragile anymore, his hands didn't seem so big or clumsy. Sam cradled his daughter to his chest, rocking her gently.

"Rose is the perfect name." He said staring down at her little face. "Hello Rose Mary Winchester!"

 

The cry roused Dean quickly. He woke alert, knowing that his daughter needed his attention. Dean glanced about, expecting Sam or Bobby or Rowena to be nearby, waiting to help. All morning there had been one or more in attendance. Maybe they were finally getting some well deserved rest. Or perhaps Sam was at Dad's hearing. Either way, Dean was surprised to find he was alone. Well, not alone. Rose was in her crib beside his hospital bed. Another wail came from that direction. 

The control for the bed was looped over the railing of the bed. There was a button to summon the nurse for assistance. Dean knew he could call for help, probably should call for help. But, damnit, his baby needed him now, not in five or ten minutes or however long it would take the nurse to get to his room. Dean depressed the button raising the head of the bed to the full upright position. Using the railing for leverage, Dean pulled himself to the edge of the bed. It took a bit of maneuvering but he managed to crawl over the rail and land on his feet. He paused a second or two to get his equilibrium then moved towards the crib. 

"Hey there, bright eyes," Dean crooned to the crying infant, "What's the problem?" He covered the small bundle with his good hand, rocking it gently from side to side. Rose continued to cry. "Hey, come on, give me a break. You're not exactly catching me at my best." Dean worked his hand under the small body. Using his cast to steady the baby he lifted his daughter out of the crib. Her crying abated as Dean cuddled her to his chest. Knowing his own body's weakness, Dean sank into the armchair Sam had occupied. "There that's better, isn't it? Sorry you got thrust into this world without your Daddy and me there to greet you properly. We'll do better in the future. I promise you, we will." Rose whimpered again. "Oh no, don't start that again. Is it this puss of mine that's scaring you? It's not my fault that it's messed up, you know? Hey, when I was little and I felt bad, my Mom would sing to me. How about we try that, huh?"

"Hey Jude, don't be afraid, you have..."

The baby screwed up her little face and wailed louder than ever. Dean stopped singing, cringing at the volume of the cry.

"Not your song, okay, I get it. That was my song. You need your own." Dean thought for a moment. A smile spread across his face. "Maybe you'll like this one better..."

"I give her all my love, that's all I do. And if you saw my love, you'd love her too." Dean sang softly. The baby quieted quickly, staring up at her omega. "And I love her."

Dean smiled down at his daughter, improvising the words to fit the occasion. 

"I give her everything, so tenderly. And kiss her little nose and her toes. And I love her. A love like ours will never die, as long as I have you near me." 

Dean kissed the little fist wrapped around his forefinger. 

"Bright are the stars that shine, dark is the sky. I know this love of mine will never die. And I love her."

"You like that one, huh? How about an encore while you have lunch?" Dean moved the baby into position. She nursed contentedly as he sang softly.

 

Sam hurried up the steps of the hospital. He hadn't intended to be gone this long. The hearing had started late and gone longer than he had anticipated. He was pleased that he could report back to Dean that John had agreed to placement in an accredited alcoholism treatment facility. Just as important, the judge had accepted his plea of 'nolo contendre' and the treatment program as part of the plea agreement. John would be on probation for five years but the outcome could have been much worse. Actually, Sam thought as he walked swiftly down the hallway to Dean's room, maybe their father could get a new start to his life, a better life.

Sam opened the door quietly. He didn't want to wake Dean or Rose if either was sleeping. Through the crack he heard the voice of his mate singing softly to their daughter. Seated with his back to the door and absorbed in caring for the baby, Dean didn't seem to notice his arrival. Sam took in the domestic scene, savoring the contentment welling up inside his heart.

Life was good. Very good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey Jude" music and lyrics by John Lennon 
> 
> "And I Love Her" music and lyrics by Paul McCartney and John Lennon, I confess I have adapted the lyrics to be more appropriate to the story.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

"Would you like more tea, Sir Furry Face?"

"Thank you, Princess Squiggle. I would be honored." Bobby answered, with a hint of a British accent. "And if you would be so kind, may I have another cookie, please?"

The four year eyed him closely. "You ate yours too fast. If you eat another one you'll spoil dinner. Ommie says."

"Dinner might be a bit late tonight, Princess." The man started to negotiate as a cry from the baby monitor cut him off. "Sounds like Squire Jay is calling."

"Oh no!" The little girl stated with regal drama. "He can't come to our tea party. He's too messy."

"That's because he's only a baby."

"Nah-uh." She shook her head, brown curls bouncing. "J.J. is a boy. A messy boy."

Bobby couldn't hold back the grin that split his face. "Can I tell you a secret, Princess?" The green eyes went wide with excitement. For a four year old, secrets were even better than tea parties! Rose nodded enthusiastically.

"I was once a boy." Bobby confessed in a conspiratorial tone. "A very messy boy. And I grew out of it. I bet Jay will too."

"I hope so!" The little girl sighed theatrically as a louder squawk came through the speaker. "He better be quick at it!"

Bobby laughed in sympathy. He took off the floppy, flower-bedecked straw hat that was mandatory for tea party participation. He hung it on a peg as the girl stripped off the frothy pink gown that covered her shorts set. Bobby took the dress from her to replace it on the hanger. He hung it beside the collection of flowery hats pegged along the wall. With a sigh of real regret, the little girl lifted the jeweled tiara from her curls and placed it on its own shelf.

A louder wail sounded. Bobby skewed his body, directing his voice toward the open doorway. "I'm coming, J.J. Keep your diaper on!" The crying subsided into hitching breaths. "Come on, honey, let's get this cleaned up fast." He quickly stacked the dirty dishes into the little picnic basket. He helped himself to that extra cookie and pretended not to notice as Rose snatched one, too. Bobby took the last shortbread cookie to placate the baby.

"Put the basket by the stairs." He told the girl as they moved down the hallway. "I'll take it down after we get Mr. Bossy Pants here." Bobby swung into the brightly colored nursery with the little girl dancing at his heels. The little boy in the crib stopped crying immediately, reaching chubby arms to be taken. "Hey there, kiddo, what's all the fuss about?"

Rose screwed up her face in distaste. She held her nose as she answered for her one year old brother. "He's got a stinky one."

"Yeah, I got that, Sherlock." Bobby replied. Once, not so long ago, the prospect of a dirty diaper would have had him calling for back up. Now after these two, he was an old hand at it. The unpleasant task was quickly dealt with, the cookie bribing J.J. into relative stillness.

"Don't blame you for complaining," Bobby told the baby as he snapped up his britches. "I'd've hollered too with that mess in my pants."

"He needs to learn to use the potty." Rose added with the superior wisdom of a four year old.

"He's still too young for that, missie. He's only just got his legs under control. Give him time. You have to be patient with babies." Bobby stood the little boy on the floor. He offered one finger for J.J. to grasp as they walked slowly to the stairs.

"That's what Ommie says. But I am patient. I lets him go first on the swing. And for songs and stories. All the time I's got to be patient. It's not fair." She pouted as Bobby picked up the picnic basket and started down.

"I hear you, darling. It's tough being the oldest. But you have to remember you had more than three years of your Ommie's and Daddy's love and attention before J.J. came to join us."

"I's too little to remember that before time." Rose answered shrewdly. "Is Ommie bringing home another baby?"

Bobby kept his features still. It was his responsibility to care for these little ones. He wasn't supposed to worry them. Where their parents were, what they were doing was beyond these children's comprehension. "No baby this time, darling."

"I didn't think so. Ommie ain't got a watermelon belly."

"A watermelon belly?."

"Uh-huh. Ommie told me. Daddy plants a tiny seed, just like we done last spring. The seed grows and grows inside Ommie's tummy until it's big and round likes a watermelon. That's I remember." She hopped down the last few steps, and stood studying him with wide curious eyes. Bobby sensed trouble. "Uncle Bobby how does the baby get out of the watermelon?"

Bobby glanced heavenward for inspiration. He wasn't qualified to do sex ed for preschoolers. "That's a question for your Ommie, darling. He knows lots more about babies than Uncle Bobby."

"But Ommie's not here. He's been gone for days and days and days!" Bobby saw the lower lip start to quiver. She sniffled, wiping a hand over her eyes. "I want Ommie!" The little girl whispered, suddenly on the verge of a meltdown.

Bobby knew this pair well. If big sister started to cry, little brother wouldn't be far behind. "I know you miss your Ommie. And he misses you too. Don't cry, darling. How about we call them after dinner?"

The lip firmed into a pout and a reluctant nod of agreement. Bobby moved on quickly, hoping to distract the girl. "What shall we make for dinner tonight? We can make Macroni and cheese?" That got an emphatic shake of the brown curls. "Fish sticks? Chicken bites? Spaghetti?"

"Sketty!" Rose answered with certainty. "It's J.J.'s favorite." Bobby smiled. He was well aware that it was also Rose's choice 80% of the time.

"J.J. will make an awful mess." She predicted from experience.

Bobby laughed. "That's no problem. Any mess can be cleaned up. And we can do bath time right after dinner."

 

"Hold still, midget!" Bobby swooped in with his weapon of choice- a warm, wet washcloth. He caught one little hand and wiped it clean. While he was busy with that, the free hand spread marinara sauce from gap toothed mouth across the chubby cheeks into the fine blond hair. Bobby freed the clean hand and snagged the guilty second. "Come on, Jay. Give me a break. Work with me, kid!"

Rose giggled, enjoying the show. She wiped her chin with a paper napkin as Bobby picked a stray piece of pasta from the baby's hair. He dropped it into the sink as he rinsed the washcloth beneath the tap. Round two of the wipe down was a reasonable success. The kid wasn't likely to stain the furniture at least. Bobby untied the bib and whisked it off just as footsteps sounded on the back porch.

Rose's sharp ears heard them too. "Ommie! Daddy!" She shouted as she shimmied out of her booster seat. She took off for the back door as fast as her little legs could go. J.J. struggled to join her. Frustrated by the highchair's safety straps, the one year old could only howl in protest. Bobby took a second or two to free the baby, balanced him on one hip, then followed. He pulled Rose back out of the door's path as it opened to admit John Winchester, sober and smiling from ear to ear. 

John bent down and swept up his granddaughter. "There's my Rosie-Posie! Do you have a kiss for Grandpa?" He engulfed her in a big hug. "That's my girl! Are you helping Uncle Bobby take care of your brother?" He caught the small sob that caught in Rose's throat. "Hey now, what's this? Tears? What's wrong, baby girl?"

"I- I want Ommie!" She sobbed.

"Oh, sweetheart! I know you do." John kissed both cheeks to dry her tears. "And I've got a message for you from your Ommie. He and Daddy will be home tomorrow before supper time. He wants you to be a good girl for Uncle Bobby. And he told me to give you a million kisses."

John began to dust kisses over the girl's face and hair, down the back of her neck and ears, earning a chorus of giggles and shrieks of delight. The little girl squirmed free of his arms, with John's cooperation. She danced away, laughing, calling to her brother to come and play as she left the room. Bobby set J.J. on his feet. He tottered after Rose, happy join in any game.

John and Bobby trailed after the pair, eyes and ears alert to trouble, voices lowered.

"Is it over?" Bobby asked quietly.

"Dean's part." John replied. "Three damn days! He finished his testimony just before they adjourned for the day. Sam said Dean's exhausted. He's worried about him."

"What else is new?" Bobby muttered sarcastically. John ignored the comment to continue. "They tried to get a flight out tonight but everything is booked solid." The kids had settled into a game of blocks. Rose building a wall or a tower for J.J. to knock down. That might keep them occupied for ten or fifteen minutes if the men were lucky. 

"Dean was willing to fly standby but Sam would have none of that. The press is so rabid, he'd be a sitting duck, hanging around the airport waiting hours for a flight. He'd be fair game for any muckraker with ambition and a butt load of questions. We all know that they want to get home to the kids but they are both dead tired. I told 'em it would be best to get a good night's sleep. And that we'd see 'em tomorrow. I'm sure Dean's pissed about it but Sam will make him see the sense of it."

"When will they vote?"

"Sam said Senator Kingsley plans to call for a vote on the Omega Rights Bill tomorrow, first thing. Someone's bound to move for debate. That will open the floodgates, for sure."

"Do you think it has a chance to pass?" Bobby asked, not sounding at all optimistic.

"Sam doubts that they have the votes. Dean's testimony may have opened some eyes. May even have swayed some votes but you can't change a whole culture overnight. And even if it passes Congress, the individual States have to ratify any constitutional amendments. Chances are slim that it will make it this time. Dean knows that." John shrugged. "You have to start somewhere. Just the fact that people are talking about omega rights is a major step forward."

"Never thought our boys would be involved in politics." Bobby admitted. "Not sure it's any better than hunting for your peace of mind or longevity."

"They're making the world a better place. Or at least trying to. I'm proud of them."

"Yeah, so am I." 

Chaos erupted as J.J. began to throw the blocks around the room with surprising force and questionable accuracy. Rose tackled him, lying atop the protesting toddler to stop his bad behavior. Bobby stepped up to haul Rose off her brother. John scooped up his namesake to soothe the little boy's indignation. 

"I think bath time is in order." Bobby decided. He turned to John, taunting good naturedly. "You here to help out or are you running for cover?"

"The boys thought you might be getting worn down. I'm here to help. I've got tomorrow off at the garage. My P. O. has okayed me staying overnight. I'm yours if you want my help."

"Of course, I want you, man! Do I look like an idjit? These two are a handful at best of times but wait til you see them wet and slippery!" Bobby laughed heartily as he announced. "Come on, munchkins! It's bath time."

Rose whooped enthusiastically as she scrambled for the stairs. J.J. squirmed eagerly, nearly falling from John's grasp. "Let's get this show on the road!" Bobby said herding all participants up to the second floor bath. Privately he thought it would be interesting to see the Big, Bad John Winchester deal with two kids and a bubble bath.

It might be an interesting night! 

 

"Alright, time to rinse off." Bobby announced. The kids had been playing in the warm sudsy water for nearly an hour. They were clean and pruney, happy and on the edge of fatigue. Although Rose would be content to play shampoo hairstyles forever, J.J. had just rubbed bubbles into his eyes for the third time. It would be best to get the pair out of the tub and into their p.j.s before the inevitable crankiness came. 

John looked relieved. The bath was warm and steamy. He'd stripped down to his white t-shirt soon after the bath had begun. Even so he felt wilted and worn out. How did Bobby do this? The man had been babysitting the kids for four days now. John had new admiration for his old hunting cohort.

"J.J. it's your turn to make the water go bye-bye. No, Rose let him do it. He can pull the plug. That's it, good job!" Bobby took up the handheld shower wand. "Close your eyes, Rose. Let's get the shampoo out of your hair. No argument. That's a good girl!" The warm water spray rinsed the bubbles from the curls and down the little body. "Grandpa's got a towel ready for you. Jay, here you go. No, baby, close your eyes tight. Good boy! Keep your eyes closed. Almost done. There." Satisfied that all the soap had sluiced down the drain, Bobby turned off the spray. With a fluffy towel he lifted the little boy out of the tub. 

Rose had progressed to pulling on her pajamas. She was adamantly telling her grandfather that she could do it by herself when Bobby heard the front door open. A quick glance told him John had heard it too. No words were exchanged. John nodded once, cocked his head toward the door and stood up. Silently he slipped out into the hallway. Bobby bundled J.J. into a diaper and his Superman jammies in record time. Rose was preoccupied trying to pull a comb through her curls. Bobby was considering throwing all the towels from the linen closet into the tub and nesting the kids there. It would be a defensible site. Maybe.

"Sam! Dean!" John's voice carried clearly through the bathroom door. In a flash Rose was scrambling to open the door. She practically flew down the hallway. She saw her Ommie coming up the stairs and jumped into his arms. Dean snatched the little body out of midair. He steadied himself on the steps as his daughter wound her arms around his neck in a stranglehold of a hug. Dean made it to the top of the stairs as Bobby emerged from the kids' bathroom, struggling to keep J.J. in his grasp.

Dean dropped to his knees, one arm held his daughter tightly, the other he opened to his son. Bobby dropped the baby to the floor. J.J. tottered directly into his Ommie's embrace. Dean dropped back to sit against the wall. He had no intention of going anywhere. With his kids in his arms, he never wanted to go anywhere again. 

Sam clambered up the stairs two at a time. He had abandoned their luggage just inside the door when Rose had done that flying leap into Dean's arms. He sank done beside his mate and gathered his family into his embrace. J.J. raised his head to smile at Sam, a pudgy hand twisted in his hair, pulling him close for an open mouthed sloppy kiss. It felt so right to be home.

John smiled down at his family. "We weren't expecting you til tomorrow!"

"Thank Senator Kingsley. When he found out we were stuck in D.C., he made a few calls. Before we know it there's a limo waiting outside to take us to a private jet. Happened fast enough to make your head spin. There wasn't time to call."

"Must be nice to have friends in high places." Bobby put in. "It's good to have you home."

Rose relaxed her death grip enough to lean back in Dean's arms as J.J. cuddled closer, tucking his head beneath Dean's chin. Rose started filling in her parents on all that they had missed while they'd been absent. Dean and Sam listened intently, suitably impressed by her account, amused at the thought of Bobby at a tea party. The look they exchanged said that would have been a sight! 

It took a while for the little girl to run out of news but eventually it happened. She settled down contentedly with her head on Dean's shoulder. Dean turned his head to kiss her curls rousing the baby from his comfortable spot. J.J. pulled himself upright to pat Dean's cheek, a wet grin on his cherubic face. Winking at his son, feeling no desire to curtail their family reunion, Dean declared, "I think tonight calls for a pajama party in Daddy and Ommie's bed. What do you say, kids?"

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers greeted his suggestion. Sam agreed with a big grin and a sheepish nod, distracted by the thought that they would need to find suitable pjs for both himself and Dean. 

"Come on gang, time to brush teeth! Then we grab a stack of books and snuggle down." Dean outlined the game plan.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass on the pajama party." Bobby joked. "Sounds a might crowded. And I could use a good night's sleep."

"I'm with you" John added. "How about we fall back to your place," he said to Bobby. "Order a pizza and check out the fights on Pay per View?"

"Sounds good to me."

Sam stood as Dean carried the kids back into the bath. He turned to take Bobby's hand. "Thanks for taking care of them. We couldn't have gone, done what needed to be done if you weren't here with the kids. Don't know how we'll ever repay you."

"Enough of that. I've told you, boys, family goes beyond blood. I'm here for you whenever you need me." Bobby promised, grasping the bigger man's shoulder. Sam nodded in appreciation. He smiled then turned to address their father.

"Thanks for coming to help, Dad." He paused, feeling awkward but wanting to get the words out. "It's good to have you back in our lives. We want you to know your grandkids if that's works for you."

The kids ran out of the bath toward their bedrooms as Dean called after them. "Get some story books! I'm going to put my jammies on!" Dean jogged past the others, a huge grin on his face as he headed to the master bedroom. The sight of his happiness was enough compensation for the others.

"I know I've been a sorry excuse for a father," John began nervously, "I can't change all those years I wasn't there for you but I'd like to do better, do what I can."

Rose trooped past the grown ups, carrying a dozen or so Little Golden Books. J.J. followed, dragging a bedraggled copy of 'The Monster at the End of this Book'. 

John took in the title, eyed Sam critically. "Really? You raising 'em in the family business, after all?"

"No, definitely not. But maybe it's hereditary. It's one of their favorites. You should hear Dean's Grover voice. The kids love it! Although personally, I think his Cookie Monster is more on the mark."

The giggles and the rustle of bedclothes died down. From the far bedroom came the goofy, gruff voice of Dean. "The Monster at the End of This Book, by Jon Stone, Hello Everybodee! This is a very boring page... What did that say?"

John clapped Sam on the back. "Go on. Go be with your family. Don't make the same mistakes I did."

Sam listened to his father's advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this continuation of HazelDomain's story, 'A Rose Among the Thorns', I had no idea I would write 48 chapters and over 100,000 words. I hope you all have enjoyed Dean and Sam's journey. I thank you most sincerely for reading this. Thank you for the comments and kudos, they are the encouragement that kept me writing. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
> 
> I've written a sequel, 'Dean Versus the Two Year Old Demon' as part of a series, 'A Rose Grows'. Any subsequent sequels will be archived here.


End file.
